


Artemis Fowl and the Games of Hunger

by Take2Novels



Series: Artemis Fowl and the Games of Hunger [1]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 58,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take2Novels/pseuds/Take2Novels
Summary: Just after the events of The Lost Colony, Artemis Fowl II travelled in time and accidentally landed in a timeline where the future is bleak. The young Irish genius thus finds himself stranded in the country of Panem; a place where the population is divided into twelve Districts that each have to send two teenagers in an arena to fight to the death every year.As the Reaping for that year’s Hunger Games is nearing, Artemis' odds of going back home safely seem less and less in his favor...
Series: Artemis Fowl and the Games of Hunger [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891177
Comments: 30
Kudos: 54





	1. Prologue

**Part I**   
**The Departure**

**_A few months after The Lost Colony…_ **

Artemis Fowl turned to the small demon warlock seated in his office. To the general population of Haven City, that demon was known as N°1.

“So… I called you here to answer a simple question; do you think there would be any possibility of, say… me traveling to the future?” asked the raven-haired, fourteen-year-old boy.

“Why would you want to time travel anyway? You know how last time turned out,” the demon replied, thinking that Holly would most likely disapprove of the secret meeting he was having with Artemis.

“Yes, I remember perfectly well, N°1,” said Artemis. “As to why…” A small smirk stretched on his lips. “I’m curious about the future. I know you said that it would be very difficult to travel to a place or time you have never experienced, but there must be a way.”

N°1 turned away from Artemis’s stare, ready to cover his ears and sing in his head, just to make sure not to get in trouble… Artemis was smart, but he was indeed troublesome… _Could he handle the future?_ Probably. _Would N°1 help him get there?_ Unlikely.

“N°1,” Artemis leaned forward in his chair. “This is very important. I don’t know as much as you about time travel… I am not asking you to take me to the future, but only to tell me if you think you know of any way it could be done.” The demon warlock bit his tongue. The look on his face was all Artemis needed as an answer. The boy frowned. “You don’t know any then? Disappointing.” He leaned back in his armchair.

N°1 was getting more and more claustrophobic in Artemis’s office. _I won’t be able to say no… No! I have to say no!_ The poor demon was thorn between his friendship with Artemis and the possible punishment he could get if he ever dared to help the kid. Fidgeting, he let out one quick breath. “Yes, it is possible!” And he bit his tongue again. He had already said way too much.

A smirk formed over the 14-year-old’s lips. “And do you know under which conditions it would be possible?”

“I can’t tell you! Holly and Foaly could find out and blame me and force me to be interrogated by the LEP and put me in jail –” He stopped midway through his stream of thoughts, trying to calm down.

“N°1, I can assure you, they would do no such thing…” Artemis said calmly. “Think about it; what I could achieve if I went into the future. I could find cures for illnesses that we have no way of dealing with now; endless possibilities, N°1, trust me.”

The demon tried to raise an eyebrow, without much success, perhaps due to his lack of eyebrows. “You? Finding cures for diseases?” He exploded in a fit of loud laughter. Artemis frowned and N°1 stopped laughing. “Since when do you care about other Mud People?”

“Oh, why I’ve always cared, N°1.” Artemis gave the small demon a rather intense look with his mismatching eyes. “Are you suggesting that I do not care for my own race?”

“No, no, no…” Why was N°1 so terrified of that boy all of a sudden? “I meant that…” He paused searching for the right words. “Your relationships with those of your own race are not exactly the friendliest…” He chuckled in an attempt to ease the mood in the room.

“That might be true… But I am not immune to any of the deadly diseases, N°1…”

“Are you ill?” The small warlock’s worries could be heard through his voice. Was Artemis dying? “You know that the future can be very unstable, right? Maybe you will not even be able to find what you are looking for once you get there… You know, paradoxes…” N°1 tried to put some space between the human and him to think more clearly. “Would you promise me that Foaly and Holly would not know about this _if_ I helped you?” The demon cocked his head; perhaps a promise from Artemis Fowl was not the most stable base for a plan like this… “No,” he said. “Never mind. Don’t promise it, swear it!”

Artemis gave him a smile. “I swear to it… Foaly and Holly will not know.”

Chills went down N°1’s spine. “What are you trying to do exactly? I mean, I _do know_ that you want to go to the future, but how must I help you? _If_ I decide to help you, that is.”

“If I am to go into the future, I will need something to anchor me back home, or at least that’s what you told me,” explained Artemis.

“That is correct,” confirmed N°1. Putting one and one together was rather simple; the demon would act as the anchor point. “I suppose I could have the abilities to do that…” He said, borrowing a suspicious tone he had once heard in a human police movie; not wanting to let Artemis know that his manipulations were extremely effective on him.

“I know you’d have the abilities… So, will you assist me?”

“ _If_ I were to assist you, you would have to possess a fair amount of magic yourself. Do you?”

“Let us assume that I do.”

“We’re still talking hypothetically here –” N°1 giggled at the fact that he had used the word “hypothetically.” _What a funny word,_ he thought. “You would need to concentrate on where you want to end up, and since it’s in the future, and that no one really knows what’s in there, you would have to take a wild guess.”

“I am rather good with imagining what the future could be like, I am sure I’d do perfectly fine.”

“And then, I would have to get into my position of power,” the demon rested the weight of his whole body on his tail. “And send you a special dose of magic… Like this…” Artemis felt the magic rush through his veins and reach the base of his skull. “Then, you would have to concentrate on the magic and on your destination…”

The pale teenager nodded. His face changed to what Juliet had named the _focus-face_ , which was a pretty self explanatory name.

Before he could even realize what he had done, N°1 was standing alone in Artemis Fowl’s study.

 _Oh-oh… What have I done! What. Have. I. Done? Holly is not going to like that! I’m going to jail!_ The demon could do nothing but panic as he figured out that he had just sent Artemis into the unknown.


	2. Chapter One - Panem

Artemis blinked, trying to clear his vision. It took a few seconds for him to realize what had just happened. The boy stood up, not exactly sure of where he was located in time and place.

There seemed to be many factories in the area. Actually, in the distance, printed on a flag that was dancing in the breeze, was a factory with three gears acting as its base. “District 3,” read Artemis.

“Hey!” Artemis turned around, searching for the provenance of the sound. “What are you doing here? You should be working!” Two men in white uniforms approached him, weapons in hands. They both looked at Artemis and evaluated his age. “You should be in school, young man,” one of them corrected their previous statement. The two armed men were now close enough for Artemis to read their name tags.

 _Peacekeepers?_ Well that was certainly not from his time period, thought Artemis. The boy’s mind then began to race. How could he use these two men at his advantage? The answer came to him rather quickly, _mesmer_ , of course. N°1 had filled him up with powerful magic, so it would not be too difficult…

The Peacekeepers were about to arrest the boy when his enchanting, multi-layered voice reached their ears. They froze and listened to the voice, ready to do anything it could request. “Take me to the closest digital database you know of. Now,” it said.

The Peacekeepers nodded and led Artemis though countless empty streets, escorting him to a massive edifice.

A flight of stairs later, Artemis was inside the District 3 Justice Building, facing the town’s mayor.

Artemis eyed the man before him. The mayor seemed to be a charismatic man in his mid-forties. Artemis then looked around the office, searching for clues that could eventually help him create the perfect lies and alibis, if need there be. After having quickly scanned the room, Artemis noticed three cameras; no blind spots, one digital device that looked like a computer, and he had taken note of the mayor’s name; Mayor Theravan Hewatts. As far as Artemis was concerned, that could suffice.

“And who do we have here?” Mayor Hewatts asked one of the Peacekeepers.

Artemis cleared his throat and made sure to get a good eye contact with the mayor. “Leave the room at once, and bring the Peacekeepers with you. Entrance to this room will be strictly forbidden to everybody but me until I instruct you otherwise. Do not tell anybody of my presence here.” The _mesmer_ worked rather well on the man, for he immediately obeyed, leaving Artemis alone in the office.

Not losing a second, the boy got to work. He sat before what he identified as the mayor’s computer and began his research.

After a few minutes of getting used to the futuristic software, Artemis got comfortable. As it turned out, the technology of the future was extremely similar to that of the People’s of Artemis’s time.

It took a bit of fiddling to bypass the outrageous security measures that had been blocking his access to distant servers, but eventually enough layers had been uncovered to accomplish _something_. Searching through the files and programs of a rather promising server, Artemis managed to find what he had been looking for; archives. Of course, in _his_ time, the files were not archives, for they were yet to be written.

The thing was that the Fowl heir had recently come upon an extraordinary opportunity in a very unstable stock market. The market in question could fluctuate in a matter of a few minutes, and though the benefits could be great, the loss could be even greater… Not wanting to turn down such an offer, but not wanting to risk his family’s freshly restored fortune, Artemis had come up with a simple plan; manipulating N°1 into sending him to the future to find the archives of the stock market. That way, Artemis would have an idea as to when the market would be at its most profitable.

Once he found the answer he was looking for, Artemis let his curiosity guide him as he clicked on the more recent archival files. After all, he had to know where and when he had landed.

He clicked on a file, anticipation surging through his system. _What will humanity become?_ He wondered, smirking, though his smile quickly faded away, going as far as turning into a frown when he read the information he found.

Those specific extracts of news articles appeared to have once been accessible to the public, but eventually they became protected documents, which had then turned into top-secret files as time passed…

From what Artemis read, terrible natural disasters had struck the planet and made the sea levels rise until humanity became gravely threatened… Eventually, the weak and dying society found refuge in the remains of North America, which would soon be known as Panem.

 _Bread and circuses,_ quoted Artemis from the Latin saying, as he got more and more intrigued about this nation.

On one of the articles, Artemis found the map of a distorted North America. The territory had been divided in fourteen regions; thirteen sectors called the _Districts_ and one other part baptized the _Capitol._

The boy read on, learning that each of the districts had eventually evolved into industries in charge of serving the needs of Panem… Or more precisely, the needs of the Capitol… The districts then realized that they were slowly becoming slaves of the Capitol and they did what any oppressed society had to do; they rebelled.

Artemis let out a low gasp as he read the statistics of the rebellion’s casualties. Not only had the war led to the complete destruction of the 13th District, but it had also lead to a stronger dictatorship from the Capitol, as well as the creation of a grotesque spectacle. From the victory of the Capitol had bloomed the _Hunger Games_.

Viewed as both a way to demonstrate their power, as well as to entertain its citizens, the Capitol had created a televised game show featuring twenty-four people between the ages of twelve and eighteen, who were to fight to the death until one of the teenagers would emerge as the victor. Apparently, the victor was a way to represent the Capitol’s generosity.

Feeling slightly nauseous about that last detail, Artemis scrolled up in the documents. The newest of the files was an article announcing the official dates of what was apparently called the _Reaping_ of the 80th Annual Hunger Games.

The boy grunted in disgust, suddenly feeling ashamed of his own race. How could anyone let these kinds of things happen during eighty years?

He shook his head and closed the files. When he would get back to his own time, he would make sure that humanity never came to this. He would, however, make sure that the stock market would triple the amount of money he would invest in it.

Sighing, Artemis made his way through the double doors of the mayor’s office. He would have to find Hewatts and revoke his previous orders before going back to the 21st century. It was not an absolute necessity, since Artemis could not care less about a mayor not being able to step into his office, but Artemis felt generous that day, luckily for mayor Hewatts.

Finding him at the end of the hallway, Artemis immediately made eye contact with the mayor. “You are now allowed to go in your office,” he said, pushing a dose of _mesmer_ through his voice.

Theravan Hewatts stared at him blankly and nodded. “I’m now allowed to go in my office,” he repeated, matter-of-factly, in a calm voice.

Snapping out of the trance, the mayor’s dark gray eyes became clearer and they were still aimed towards Artemis. “And who do we have here?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. There was no time for Artemis to answer, for with one snap of the mayor’s fingers, the two Peacekeepers beside him turned to the Irish boy. “There is an intruder in the Justice Building! Get him.” Hewatts pointed towards Artemis and the Peacekeepers obeyed.

Needless to say, the intruder, better known as Artemis Fowl, ran.

He navigated through the corridors and rooms of the building at the best of his physical abilities – which were not too great to begin with – in order to get a few seconds of tranquility, just enough time to reach N°1’s magic signal and go back to where he belonged. All he needed was a room that could be easily accessible, as well as easily locked or blocked.

Two more Peacekeepers added themselves to the previous ones… Artemis would soon be circled.

There was absolutely no way he could run past the men in white uniforms, and no way for a quick _mesmer_ either, for the Peacekeepers were too busy looking at the possible paths Artemis could borrow in order to escape them.

Taking one quarter of a second, the boy evaluated his options and thought of what his allies would do.

Butler would shoot or hit the Peacekeepers; Foaly would get one of his precious bugs to distract them, whereas Mulch would use his own body to create an unpleasant diversion… And Holly… If she had a Neutrino close by, she would do like Butler, but unarmed, she would probably use her shield, or make herself as small as possible. Alas, Artemis’s body was not exactly made to hit and shield, nor was his digestive system built like a dwarf’s.

Artemis scanned the corridor as he worked out a plan. Hoping with all his heart that his physical abilities would allow him to be fast enough, he ran straight towards the wall in front of him, as the two pairs of Peacekeepers approached him.

The boy praised himself as he ran along the wall. His tactic had had the advantage of taking the uniformed men aback, as well as giving Artemis one small chance of escape; in approximately six meters, was a door. Artemis had to take in consideration the probabilities of it being locked or occupied, but later decided to give his Irish luck a try due to the circumstances.

Making himself as small as possible against the wall, he took the situation literally one step at the time. The Peacekeepers were closing in. If Artemis could not make it to the door, he would have to prolong his stay in District 3.

Artemis felt a hand on his back as he took his final step, his own hand wrapping around the door’s handle. He pushed it open and closed it back up as soon as he got in.

With a sigh of relief, the boy took awareness of his surroundings; a janitor’s closet apparently. Taking whatever was available in the small, dim-lighted room, Artemis blocked the door. His barricade of cleaning supplies would not last for long, but it would hold for a sufficient amount of time.

Artemis closed his eyes, searching for N°1’s magic signal, which he instantly felt. He concentrated on his magic, ready to leave this place in which kids slaughtered one another for a dictator’s entertainment and lust for power.

A loud knocking sound came from the door. The Peacekeepers were already starting to force it open.

Artemis took a deep breath, focusing on N°1’s anchor point. He felt _it_ , beaming and calling for him. The only thing Artemis had to do was to answer the call and let his body and mind enter the time tunnel. The boy felt the air stir and had the vague sensation that his atoms were being lifted… But that only lasted for a split second.

The strange feeling of being hauled down by an abnormally strong gravitational pull forced Artemis’s eyelids to open. There was some type of static noise inside his head, right where his magic was located. It was almost as if the power he had gotten from the People had turned into a radio that could not receive signals properly.

Shaking away the uncomfortable scratchy noise, Artemis tried to get into the wormhole again, only to be getting back to the same result.

Another powerful blow hit the door. “Get out now and we will not harm you,” said one of the Peacekeepers, who was, ironically, the one hitting on the door.

Desperately, Artemis attempted to get back to his own time again and again, but it was of no use. After each try, the dizziness and static noise informed him of his failure.

The door of the closet flew open, along with a broom handle and a few boxes of towels.

“There is no point in trying to hide,” the mayor stepped up from between the Peacekeepers, which were blocking the door frame. Hewatts looked straight into Artemis’s eyes. “Now, tell me… Who are you and who sent you here?” He asked with an authoritarian tone.

Artemis had to think particularly fast, finally one thing he was good at. He cleared his throat, already calling the _mesmer_. “I am Artemis, your son,” he began, recalling the small details he had noticed in the mayor’s office. “Following both your wife’s and my parent’s death, you adopted me.”


	3. Chapter Two - District 3

_A barricade; a thick and heavy wall pushing back on anything that might have wanted to take it down…_

Artemis opened his eyes, letting the dizziness vaporize from his brain. He sat up in his wooden chair, in a room in the mayor’s house, which had been accommodated for him. He looked at the rising sun through his window and frowned.

Ever since last evening, he was a permanent resident of Panem’s District 3 because apparently, even _mesmerized_ , Theravan Hewatts was taking his adoptive father’s job very seriously. He had made a point of following the proper procedure and provided Artemis with an official District 3 citizenship, even approved by the Capitol.

Of course, Artemis had planned to delete the file. The only issue was to find an opportunity to delete it without jeopardizing his cover, or his stay in District 3.

“Artemis?” called a voice from the mansion’s hallway. “Your breakfast is ready.”

The boy got up. The least he could do at the moment was to go along with the course of the day.

He made his way to the kitchen, not paying attention to the Peacekeepers on duty. At least now they were off of his back and actually gave him some respect. Artemis briefly wondered if this was what it would feel like to be jailed… It’s not as if he had never given a thought about that, especially after his _businesses_.

Stepping into the kitchen, Artemis was greeted by one of Hewatts’ assistant, as well as a meal. “Did you have a good sleep?” asked the woman as Artemis sat at the table. By his reflection on the glass tabletop, the answer to this question could easily have been guessed.

Artemis shrugged. “The room was comfortable,” he said with his usual cold politeness.

He ate his breakfast, feeling the assistant’s eyes on him. As soon as he finished, the lady handed him a backpack. “Mayor Hewatts was very concerned about your integration time in his household. He wanted you to be ready and in shape for school.”

School… Yet another problem to deal with…

Barely giving the boy the time to get ready, the assistant pushed Artemis outside, towards a vehicle guarded by a Peacekeeper.

The car ride lasted approximately fifteen minutes, or two failed attempts to go back to the past. The vehicle stopped in front of a gray building, not that different from every other gray building of District 3. The only noticeable distinction was a tall metallic fence surrounding the institution, for not only had Artemis been forced to go to a school from the future, but the school was a _public_ one.

Students were walking in the building, stacks of books and various types of electronic projects in hand, while others, who did not seem to care very much, were hanging outside, under the shade provided be the very few trees in the yard.

The mayor’s assistant informed Artemis that he would have to stop by the secretary’s office to get his schedule and then told him that one of his “father’s” employees would come to pick him up at the end of the day. _That seems normal enough for me,_ thought the boy as the assistant opened his door.

Artemis climbed out of the car and followed the students who were entering the building. Luckily for him, the secretary’s office was the first one after the main doors.

“Artemis Fowl,” he told the woman behind the office’s desk.

She raised her glasses over nose and browsed through a pile of paper. Who knew that people from the future would still be using simple sheets of paper rather than digital files?

“Artemis Fowl, advanced classes?” she replied with a tone reflecting nothing but pure ennui.

“Yes, I shall be taking the advanced classes,” he confirmed sending her back her tone. He was more than one hundred percent positive that even in these classes, he would still ace.

The secretary sent him a strange look as she handed him his schedule. In all of her career, she had never heard such an accent.

Artemis took a mental note before heading for his class; he would have to mimic the district’s accent from then on.

* * *

“As you all know, tomorrow will be a big day for each and every one of you.” The teacher, Ms. Adata paced in front of the room. “Which is why we have this special class today. Anyone knows what we will be talking about?” The pathetic try at adding a touch of lightness to her voice was lost in the silence of the room. Artemis took a quick glance around. Everybody knew what she was speaking about, but no one was willing to voice it.

A brown-haired boy finally raised his hand, “Tomorrow is Reaping day,” he said trying to sound stronger than he actually felt about the event. Though no one else was aware of that fact, that one boy’s name would be in the Reaping way too many times for the odds to be in his favor this year.

“Yes Chip, the Reaping,” nodded the teacher. “Tomorrow, two people, a boy and a girl from your age range will be selected to go to the Hunger Games.”

Artemis swore he heard a collective sigh, and he had been part of it.

“We have this speech every single year,” whispered Chip, from the back of the class. His was one of many other discouraged whispers.

Ms. Adata turned on a projector and a map of Panem appeared on the front wall of the room. “Today,” she began, “We will talk about the creation of the Games and the government of Panem…”

By the end of the class, two of the youngest students had left the room in tears and the rest of the pupils were dragging their feet on the ground, trying to calm down their rage or sadness. Only Artemis and one other girl, a pale brunette with a calm voice, remained.

“I do not see why we are not allowed to learn about what was before Panem…” She said as she walked up to the teacher’s desk. Artemis had been curious about this statement and had decided to stick around the classroom to hear a little bit more.

“It simply is, Ms. Natho. The Capitol created a very specific curriculum for each of their districts; I only teach what I am allowed to.”

“Aren’t we missing out on something? Or shouldn’t we at least know where we come from? I found this pile of old books, dating from the 20th to the 21st century and I realized that Pan –”

“I am sorry Silyah,” said the teacher. “I cannot help you with that and I would not suggest you to get too interested in the past. You have no idea how dangerous it can be.” Ms. Adata looked at Artemis. “Do you need help with anything?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

The brunette tightened her hold on her books and walked out of the room, a disappointed, bittersweet smile on her lips.

Artemis shook his head and left the classroom. For the first time in so long, he actually had learned something in school. He had learned that people from the districts knew about the unfairness of the Hunger Games. They were simply completely powerless against it.

After a small recess, a bell rang, announcing the beginning of a new class. Of course, Artemis was already seated at his desk, along with a few other studious pupils. The teacher stepped in the room, and undertook the task of drawing a diagram on the board; a circuit diagram to be exact. It was rather straightforward, actually.

“Today we’re going to start with a simple diagram. Can anyone tell me how many amperes would go through ammeter _A2_?” began the man once every student was had arrived.

Artemis scanned the diagram. Two resistors were connected in parallel to a power source, along with another wire with no resistor on it. The first ammeter, A1, near the power source had been labeled as reading six amperes, therefore –

The girl with the brown hair, Silyah, was the first one to raise her hand. “Zero amperes would go through ammeters A2, same thing for A3.”

“Why would that be?” asked the teacher, not confirming, nor denying her answer.

Artemis raised his hand and cleared his throat. “Amperes always travel through the path that does not offer any resistance, when there is one in the circuit, that is. The wire on which A4 is attached has no resistor; therefore the six amperes from A1 would travel through A4. It is a short circuit.”

“That is excellent!” said the teacher. “Now, let’s move on to actual circuits. All the material is at the back of the classroom.”

Artemis smirked. There was nothing like a good lecture to lighten up his mood.

When noon arrived, Artemis was actually feeling relaxed. The challenges of the advanced classes, which were not that challenging, had had the advantage of earning him some praise.

Ironically, the only thing that caused a shadow to hover above his otherwise good mood was that the dinning area of the school was outside, in the sun.

He stepped into a shadowy corner, sitting at a small wooden table, ready to take his dinner out.

“Argh,” growled someone from behind him. She was so caught up in whatever she was doing that she barely even noticed him when she sat at the table. “Why won’t you work?” she said to her project. Her gaze went to Artemis, just as blood rushed to her face. “Mind if I sit here? It is my usual place. Out of the sun.” She tucked a strand of copper-brown brown hair away from her pale blue eyes.

“Do you mind if I ask what are you working on, Ms. Natho?” He had recognized her instantly from his two previous classes.

“It’s nothing…” she mumbled, closing a pale hand, as pale as Artemis’s skin, around the device. “I mean, it’s just something that I am trying to restore.” She sighed and opened her hand. “I am not supposed to have this, but you know, music chips are rather expensive and I knew that there was an alternative…”

Artemis looked at the object. It was a music player, probably dating from a few years after Artemis’s present time.

“I know that it is nearly an antiquity, but I can’t seem to be able to make it work… And yet if I had the necessary materials, I would be able to make my own programs and devices…” Silyah offered Artemis the music player. “I don’t think I ever got your name,” she added.

“Artemis,” he replied, taking the small object between his fingers. “Ah, I see where the problem is… May I?” He took a small tool from the kit Silyah had brought with her and began to work. The wiring was almost perfect, but the power source was not in a great shape. “You would not happen to have the charger with you, would you?”

To the girl’s amazement, five minutes were all it took for Artemis to make the music player fully operational, although there was no music saved on its hard drive.

Restoring the music player had been just as easy as the rest of the day. District 3 was mostly centered on technology and science, and these two things had not changed drastically since Artemis’s time.

By the end of the day, the boy had managed to be one of the best students of the District 3 Academical Institution. He could almost feel at home really… If only he was not stuck in a time he was never supposed to belong in…


	4. Chapter Three - The Reaping

“Artemis?” Mayor Hewatts had sent one of his staff members to go wake up the boy if necessary. The young man in question was already up, wondering what this day would bring; most likely tragedy according to the many teenagers at school.

The staff lady opened Artemis’s blinds and went to his wardrobe. She picked up a simple a dark blue dress shirt and a pair of well fitting gray pants. She placed them on the edge of Artemis’s bed and then cleared her throat. “This would be suitable for Reaping Day,” she said, expressionless, before leaving.

Artemis walked from the desk to the bed, looking down at the clothes. The future was not so different fashion-wise, he thought. Fortunately, he got to reside in the Mayor’s house, which was a main advantage. He was well clothed and fed, while most of the people he had met in District 3 lived in uneasy financial situations.

He picked up the outfit and put it on. It was not his usual Armani suit, but it was all right.

Pacing in the mansion, he finally ended up in the kitchen, where he took a small breakfast. He did not feel so hungry. Something in the air made him feel nervous and uncomfortable.

Mayor Hewatts eventually appeared in the kitchen’s doorway, two stylists following him.

“Artemis,” he said. “It’s time to go to the city square.” Behind a stylist was the same woman who had come to give him his clothes. “Follow her,” the Mayor told him with a smile full of empathy. Now that he had a son, he knew what it felt like to fear for someone’s safety.

Artemis judged best to do what he was told and followed the staff member. He walked outside of the Mayor’s House, which was just beside the city square.

When his eyes adjusted to the sun filled view, they went huge in disbelief. The quiet little town he had landed in had completely transformed overnight…

Thousands of citizens filled the streets, all heading towards the square. Camera crews were everywhere, ready to film all the action, and beside the steps of the Justice Building, giant screens, amongst other television equipment, had been placed.

Parents looked worried, kids seemed curious and teenagers were all very nervous.

“Follow that line.” the staff lady told Artemis while pointing to a long lined filled with pale-looking teens. The lady left once again, leaving Artemis on his own.

In the line in front of him, Artemis could recognize a few faces from school. He tried to look farther in the queue to see what was waiting at the end of it. No luck for him, he would have to wait and see.

When he finally reached the starting point of the line, four people sitting at a table greeted him. They asked him for his name and Artemis replied it coldly. From all the rumors he had heard at school, these people were not too friendly. The man in front of him grabbed his hand and pricked his finger, raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He pressed Artemis’s finger against a blank piece of paper. “You just moved here didn’t you?” The boy nodded, seeing no point in inventing a story, and the man directed him to an area where tense fourteen-year-old boys stood.

About ten minutes later, people began to arrive on the steps of the Justice Building. Among them were a camera crew and some technical assistants. Three chairs were placed in the entrance of the edifice; on one sat Mayor Hewatts and on the other was a lady wearing an electric blue wig with purple streaks. _Let’s forget my previous statement about future fashion…_ thought Artemis with a humorless smile.

The lady was wearing a blouse with puffy sleeves, the same colors as her hair. Her blue PVC skirt, which was strategically cut on the sides to show the purple lining underneath, was brushing the floor. She looked like an extreme version of the pop-stars from Artemis’s days with her pale blue lipstick and fake paper eyelashes.

“Wow, we’ve got Effie Trinket as an escort this year,” sarcastically whispered a boy behind Artemis, mostly trying to ease the mood.

In the third chair, a short man with black hair, ashen skin and glasses that looked too small for his face was seated. Artemis had seen his face before; he recalled that he had seen his picture once or twice the previous day, when his teacher was talking about District 3 “victors”. The man was probably Beetee Latier. From what Artemis had managed to catch of him during his teacher’s presentation, he had been assigned as the official District 3 mentor this year, whatever that meant.

A few minutes after the crowd settled down, someone off-stage signaled the trio that it was time to begin the ceremony; _the ominous Reaping_. Most teenagers breathed heavily, calming their nerves, as Mayor Hewatts rose and walked to the podium on the center of the makeshift stage.

The man retold the History of Panem, from the day that North America had been destroyed by natural disasters up until the day when the Hunger Games were created. Artemis sighed and, oddly enough, felt like he was mourning his home.

The rules of the Hunger Games were then formally explained; in much more details than how they had been told at school. It was unbelievable that two people from the audience were soon to be thrown under those twisted conditions.

Mayor Hewatts then introduced Effie Trinket on the podium. People applauded politely.

“Welcome, welcome to the 80th Annual Hunger Games.” She waited for the crowd to go silent, which only took a fraction of a second. “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!” She smiled at the crowd. “It is an honor for me to be in District Three today! The weather here is quite lovely!”

She told a few personal stories about the District before moving towards one glass ball containing thousands of paper slips. The official Reaping was about to begin.

“Ladies first!” she proclaimed. She slid her hand in the bowl and mixed the papers. On one of the giant screens passed the worried faces of District 3’s teenage girls. Effie slowly grabbed one piece of paper and carefully, on her seven-inches high heels, walked back to the podium. She opened the folded piece of paper.

The extreme silence was broken by the whistling of the microphone. “Silyah Natho!” She said way too joyfully in the microphone.

Artemis knew this name.

The brown haired girl gasped and people could clearly see that she was shaking as she walked to the stage. She took deep breaths and grabbed the hand Effie offered her to climb the stairs. “Ladies and gentlemen; Silyah Natho!” Silyah straighten her back and shoulders. “Now, before we make this official, does anyone want to volunteer at her place?” Nobody stepped forward, not one person even made a sound. Effie whispered something in the girl’s ear as Beetee got up to shake hands with the brand new tribute. Camera crews took pictures of them.

Half of the audience had relaxed, knowing that they would be safe.

“Now for the boys!” Effie walked to another glass ball, her hand hesitating between the papers. She finally drew one name out and went back to her microphone, her heels still clicking on the floor like the tick-tocks of a death sentence countdown. She smiled and looked at the crowd.

“Artemis Fowl!”

Artemis felt his heart stop. Some people in the crowd began to whisper. _Who was he?_ The few people that knew him from his short passage in District 3’s school gave the raven-haired boy sympathetic looks.

“Don’t be shy,” said Effie in her microphone.

Artemis had fought goblins, fairies and even the mafia. This should not have made him so anxious, but it did. This was not supposed to be happening!

People made a small path for him as he walked to the stage. “There you are!” Effie’s voice sounded way too enthusiastic. An army of cameras focused on Artemis.

Keeping his emotions in check was something Artemis had taught himself a long time ago; not looking as terrified as he actually was wasn’t so hard. He reached the stairs, slowly walking up to the podium. Effie introduced him and asked if there were any volunteers. Artemis had only been in Panem for two days and a few hours, nobody knew him enough to take his place in the arena. The Mayor looked into his adoptive son’s eyes, a defeated frown on his face. He walked to the podium and recited the Treaty of Treason.

In the mean time, Artemis wondered why his name was selected; it was no coincidence, he was certain of that…

Effie instructed the two new tributes to shake hands. Artemis had seen Silyah before at school; they had had a conversation and a few encounters. Although he may not have completely known her, she had proven to be clever and he knew for sure.

Silyah’s shaky hand touched Artemis’s. “I’m sorry. The odds were not in our favor apparently,” she whispered in an equally shaky voice.

“Apparently...” Artemis replied, his own voice strangely calm.

The national anthem of Panem played through the speakers beside the giant screens, photographers took the official pictures of the two tributes from District 3 and then the two teenagers were sent inside the Justice Building.

Too soon for his own taste, Artemis was sent in a small, but luxurious room. A Peacekeeper instructed him to wait there until he could say his final goodbyes. Artemis wondered who could possibly visit him.

Someone knocked softly on the door. Artemis got up and opened it. “Mayor Hewatts?” Something shiny was in the Mayor’s right hand. The left one was carrying a bag, which contained the clothing Artemis had arrived in Panem with.

“I thought that I could bring you a token from home, something you will have the right to bring along with you in the arena…” The Mayor opened his right hand. Artemis’s chain with Holly’s golden coin was in his palm. “I will bring this outfit to Ms. Trinket so that she can give it to you on the train,” he said.

“Thank you,” Artemis replied.

A Peacekeeper instructed Mayor Hewatts that he had to leave after three minutes of awkward silence, which the mayor interpreted as stress. “Good luck son,” he said giving him a military salute.

Lonely minutes passed before another Peacekeeper entered the room, “Follow me, Mr. Fowl,” requested the tall man in a white uniform. The Peacekeeper led him to a futuristic version of a car, inside of which were Effie, Beetee and Silyah, as well as a driver. Artemis sat beside the girl.

From outside the window, he could see armies of reporters and photographers desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the two tributes.

It took exactly ten “Effie-filled” minutes for them to reach the train station, where even more reporters were waiting. “Don’t answer the journalists, they are not officials from the Capitol, they could twist your words.” And on this word of advice from Effie, the group got out of the car. Camera flashes almost blinded them, but they boarded the train safely.

The two tributes were sent to their respective rooms to settle before dinner. Silyah, who had finally stopped shaking, commented on the beauty and efficiency of the train’s design as she walked to her’s, trying to think about anything but the Hunger Games.

Artemis went to his apartment and sat on his bed. In his pocket, he reached for his golden coin and threw the chain around his neck. He decided that he would try to reach N°1’s anchor point once again.

He concentrated on the magic left in him... There was nothing to do... He tried for a long time, but he was still stuck in the future.


	5. Chapter Four - The Tributes

With an irritated grunt, Artemis got out of his room. He could not stand being in the suite anymore, watching the scenery flash by the window between failed attempts at getting back home and the dizziness that came with them. Besides, it was almost time for lunch.

“Oh, hello, Artemis!” said Effie as Artemis stepped in the train’s kitchen wagon. The woman’s electric blue lips were exceptionally distracting in contrast to her pale skin. “Are you enjoying the train?”

“Well, it does travel rapidly…” replied Artemis.

“And we don’t even feel any movements, I think it’s just wonderful!” She turned around at the sound of the wagon door opening. “Hi, Silyah! You’re arriving just in time for a meal.” She smiled brightly.

Artemis looked at Silyah, she didn’t seem as sickly pale anymore. Artemis could nevertheless understand her reaction to the Reaping.

The two of them settled at the table where Beetee was already seated. “Hello, Artemis, Silyah,” the man nodded at them. Artemis gave Beetee a short sign of the head while Silyah whispered a shy _hello_ to the man.

“We are lucky this year; the stylists won’t have too much to do on these two. They look stunning, don’t they?” Effie asked the District 3 winner to fill up the silence.

Artemis wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a compliment, so he decided not to say anything. Silyah furrowed her brows, but smiled, as if incredulous.

“Is there anything that we should know about the Games before our arrival to the Capitol?” she asked, deciding to segue to a more important subject right away.

“I take it that both of you are more of the clever type rather than being physically skilled; that’s our district’s weakness,” said Beetee, picking up his fork. “And that is exactly the reason why one of you could possibly win the Games,” he continued as he took a piece of bread from a tray.

“I must say, you are very optimistic,” Artemis pointed out.

“Why of course,” replied Beetee. “That is how I won my Games. Brain over brawl.”

Artemis nodded slowly.

“Smart choices can certainly save you from the death traps that could be set in the arena,” said Effie cheerfully.

Artemis was taken aback; it was almost sinister to see how jolly Effie seemed to be, considering that she was referring to a game in which only one person out of twenty-four would come out alive. He wondered if there might be something wrong with the brain cells of those in support of these atrocities.

Silyah looked down at her food, thinking that Effie’s comment sounded too… Disconnected from reality. “Even if we can outsmart the others, we will surely be attacked one day. How will we be able to reply?” she asked. Her younger brother could bring her down if he wanted to, so she did not even dare to think of the damage trained tributes could make.

“We are currently heading for the training center, there, you will have to concentrate on physical and fighting skills. Just a little bit of logic can suffice as far as the survival techniques go, so I don’t think you will need to spend much time in those stations,” explained Beetee. “But you should not neglect them,” he added, just to make sure.

Artemis frowned. Fighting and survival were not really abilities he possessed. Well, he did survive many tricky situations, but his own time seemed so easy compared to Panem. Not to mention that back in Ireland, Artemis had precious allies; he even considered them as friends.

“You should not worry yet, I didn’t know a thing about survival before the Games, and I came out alive, granted I was slightly older than you two, but age should not matter. Just think about Finnick Odair. When he won, he was fourteen, your age, Artemis, and one year younger than you, Silyah,” said Beetee, midway through a bite of freshly baked bread.

Artemis nodded. After all, he was not that weak. He had survived the People, the Russian mafia, a goblin rebellion, time traveling through Hybras and a maniac pixie. Those were not small merits.

“I think I’ll retire now,” said Artemis after a while, getting up from the luxurious mahogany table.

Silyah looked up towards him as he was about to leave, but her gaze quickly went back down on her plate of food. She would not follow him; she was too hungry and there was so much good food on the table! What could she tell the boy anyway?

“Why do you leave us? You have not even seen the dessert yet. We have an assortment of truffles coming straight from the Capitol!” Effie looked at Artemis with strange, huge eyes.

Truffles… Artemis winced slightly. Those sweets made him think of Opal, and she was not a person he really wanted to think about at the moment. “No thanks,” he said, giving the woman a polite smile. “I am not so fond of truffles.”

Effie shrugged. “If you want to, I brought the recordings of the other district’s Reapings. They are in the screening room in the left wagon.” Effie pointed to a sign on a door on which was written _Screening Room_ , which was pretty self-explanatory.

“Yes, I think I’ll do that,” agreed Artemis, leaving the cart.

Silyah watched Artemis leave and quickly finished the food in her plate. She went to the dessert tray and tried to find something. She took two cups of hot chocolate from the platter. “I’ll go watch the Reapings with him,” she said quietly.

“Do you want us to join you? It would be a joy for me to see some familiar faces from District 12,” declared Effie, nearly clapping.

“If you want to… Or we can call you when we’ll be at District 12,” answered Silyah, slightly horrified by Effie’s bright attitude.

* * *

Artemis sat down in the sofa after figuring out how to work the “television” system. He began the video. A stage similar to the one set up in District 3 showed up on the screen.

Then, a shadow appeared in the corner of the room. Silyah walked towards Artemis and sat on the other end of the couch. She handed him a cup of hot chocolate. “You may not like truffles, but that’s not a valid reason to turn down free food,” she laughed.

Artemis actually gave her a smile, which wasn’t something he gave many people. “Thank you, Silyah.”

She smiled back. “No problem.” She looked towards the screen. “Let’s see our opponents…” she said without much enthusiasm.

“Yes…” Artemis nodded, once again turning his attention to the District 1 Reaping.

They watched as the District 1 escort drew out the girl’s name from the glass bowl. A short brunette stepped on stage and immediately, someone volunteered for her.

The new District 1 female was called Geneva Crass. She was not that tall, nor too petite and something about her seemed feline. Maybe her flamboyant chin-length red hair…

The lady then picked the boy’s name and a triumphant-looking young man appeared on screen. He walked to the podium as if he had just won the best prize ever. When the escort asked if anyone wanted to volunteer, he shot the crowd a deadly glare. No one would steal his spotlight, his place in the Games.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “How can they actually _want_ this?” he asked to no one in particular, just for the sake of stating it.

“They are the Career Tributes. They are trained, ready and willing to fight. It is so sick to think that to be picked during the Reaping is such a big honor in Districts 1, 2 and 4,” answered Silyah.

Artemis shook his head in disbelief, “They volunteer for death…”

“In their heads, they volunteer to show that they are confident and powerful,” Silyah rolled her eyes. She pointed to the screen, to the two tributes from District 2. They radiated the very spirit of survivorship and victory. “Crelin Spooks and Elon Jokter, the District 2 Tributes…” whispered Silyah as their names appeared on the television.

“Some names…” murmured Artemis. Well, he wasn’t really the one to talk, was he? Artemis was not a very common name either.

“We’re next.” Silyah sighed.

The raven-haired teen suddenly looked even paler than he already did. “Oh, joy…” he didn’t sound very eager.

“I made a really clever outfit choice! I looked fabulous, quite… Fashionistic!” Artemis and Silyah almost spilled their hot chocolates at the sound of Effie’s voice. The woman sat between the two tributes. “I see that I arrived just in time.”

Silyah suppressed a laugh, nearly biting a hole in her cheek; she was still not used to hearing Capitol accents. Fortunately, or unfortunately for her, the girl’s face appeared on screen. “Oh my… I looked like a fool. Just look at me, shaking my way up on stage.”

“You can hardly be blamed…” said Artemis, attempting to give her a comforting look behind Effie’s back. It was amazing that he was able to see the girl at all, with Effie and her outfit between them. Her sleeves were nearly as huge as the couch for crying out loud.

Now, it was Artemis’s turn in the spotlight.

“You looked very calm and composed!” smiled Effie. “You made a really good impression.”

Silyah nodded, but she was observant enough to see the hidden terror in Artemis’s eyes. She could not help but to turn towards the boy to look into his actual eyes. “Heterochromia?”

At first, Artemis looked a bit puzzled, then remembered that he had Holly’s left, hazel eyeball. “Oh. Yes…”

District 4 came into view on the giant television. The “lucky” tributes, Aquilna and Harbor Pearl were cousins. The odd thing was that Harbor had volunteered for the Games.

“They don’t look like they are from the same family…” pondered Effie. “Just look at this girl, she has a rather good fashion sense, but the boy…”

Artemis couldn’t help but to shake his head. He had never met such a phenomenon as Ms. Trinket. “Fashion and blood lines are completely unrelated. Not to mention that not all cousins look alike,” he remarked.

Effie shrugged.

“The District 5 tributes don’t look so strong…” whispered Silyah. Novia Imous was a petite dark-haired girl and Lynik Reah looked so shy and undersized under his thick glasses.

Up to date, the only tributes that were truly worrying Artemis were those from District 1.

“So far, the Reapings have been pretty similar to the other years’,” contemplated Effie, matter-of-factly.

The Capitol woman was about to get bored when the District 6 escort picked the girl’s name from the glass ball. “Lotus Bree,” the escort proclaimed. The small and skinny girl climbed on the stage. Despite her young age, she did not look devastated, nor overly confident. She just stood there, strong.

The escort had not even asked for volunteers yet when a dark-haired girl with curls made her way through the crowd. “I volunteer,” she said, her voice firm and her eyes empty of fear. She went to the stage and Lotus hugged her.

“Thank you,” the young girl told the new one.

“No need,” said the newcomer. “Go back to your mother now.” On that note, the older girl went to stand next to the escort. She looked at the crowd, seemingly eyeing every one of the spectators.

“And may we know your name?” asked the escort.

“Silver Canemon,” she replied, eyes like stones. She was not covering up any fear; she just looked relaxed, as if she didn’t mind taking someone else’s place. It was not a way to get attention; it was a juvenile sacrifice.

“Well, that was quite a twist of event,” murmured Effie nonchalantly.

“Look at the way she stands,” Silyah began analyzing the situation. “She looks strong, but you can clearly see that there is something wrong. If you look through the surface, she could almost seem… beaten, for lack of better words.”

Artemis nodded, approving Silyah’s observation. He had noticed some faint red lines sticking out from under the collar of Silver’s dress. Old scars.

The camera swept through the crowd and stopped when it reached a couple, the District 6 girl’s parents, most likely. The man looked angry; he was arguing with the woman. “You will really let her leave like that?” Artemis read his lips. One could think that he was worried about his daughter, but truly, he was only mad because Silver would leave for the arena wearing around her neck one of the only priced belongings her family owned. One silver diamond-studded cross.

Silver shot the man a look of disgust mixed with mockery, then the escort picked the male tribute, Jehl Amnel.

The rest of the Reapings were, as Effie would describe them, pretty ordinary, although the woman’s face did light up when she saw District 12 on screen. “Oh, look at this! It’s been such a long time since I last saw Peeta! He was elected as the mentor this year,” Effie looked sincerely happy to see the boy with blond hair standing next to the female tribute.

The two kids that were Reaped were Scpenser Ross and Quartz Dahlai. They looked towards Peeta with hope-filled eyes as they got their pictures taken. The boy seemed really strong and by seeing the little blond girl’s eyes, one could perceive that she could be able to survive at least for a little while in the arena.

Artemis leaned back, sighing before finishing his hot chocolate.

“I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but that was not as entertaining as I hoped,” Effie frowned and got up. “Anyone wants truffles? There are still some left in the kitchen wagon.”

Artemis shook his head. “I need some time alone.”

“Do you want us to go get you before dinner?” Effie asked him.

“Yes, please do,” he said before leaving the room.

Silyah followed the boy. She managed to reach him before he arrived in his room. “Are you alright?” she wondered genuinely.

Artemis stopped, turning back to face the girl. “Yes. Why?”

“You look distracted…” She stared at the boy with a good-humoured smile. “You have a hot chocolate mustache, and I am sure that it is not the new look you are aiming for,” she let out a laugh.

“What?” It surprisingly took a few seconds for Artemis’s brain to realize what Silyah had just said. “Oh… I guess I…” He wasn’t too sure of what to say, which was new to him. He could not help but to think that Holly would be laughing so hard that she would be rolling on the floor if she could see him like that.

Silyah took a napkin from a passing food tray and offered it to him.

“Thanks,” he took the napkin from her, wiping away the liquid that was over his lip. The girl smiled. This was the first moment she felt somewhat happy and amused since the Reaping.

Artemis gave her a rather awkward smile. “I will see you at dinner.”

The girl nodded and turned around. Behind her, she heard a door opening, then closing itself. She looked back towards the door behind which Artemis had just disappeared, hoping that he would not hear her fit of laughter as she walked to the living room wagon.

Artemis sank down on his bed, finally letting the blush attack his cheeks. What an embarrassement. He took his head between his slim fingers.

He could save the world from pixies and humans alike, but talk to a girl… No. Holly would have found this wildly amusing, he was sure of it… And so would have Mulch, and probably Foaly too… But his friends were not there and if _the odds were not in his favor_ , he would never see them again…

* * *

Beetee scribbled a few notes on a block of paper. He had to think about strategies. “Effie?” he called.

The woman went to sit beside him. “Yes?”

“Tell me everything you might know about our two tributes.”

Effie thought about it for a few seconds. “They are both quite good looking. This could bring many sponsors.”

Beetee wrote that down, although he was not too sure about the value of this information. “Anything else?”

“I believe that they are relatively comfortable with each other. And I noticed that they were both very observant.”

“You actually noticed something about them?” mumbled Beetee, raising an eyebrow, a smile on his lips.

Effie sighed. “Why yes, I did.” Beetee was just joking, but the woman seemed offended. “I’m actually a very observant person too, Mr. Latier!” she spat, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Calm down Effie.”

“I beg you pardon, but I am perfectly calm!” She got up and headed for the living room.

 _She is so strange…_ thought Beetee. “Capitol people,” he murmured, laughing.

* * *

When Effie reached the living room wagon, she found Silyah who was looking at the ever-changing scenery through the large window. She sat in front of the girl.

She was so quiet!

“So… What do you think about Artemis?” Effie asked the fifteen year-old District 3 girl.

She turned slowly towards Effie. “He’s special,” Silyah smiled.

“Special?” wondered Effie.

“He is extremely clever and he looks mentally strong, but it’s obvious that the Reaping shook him up.”

“Why is that?”

“Haven’t you noticed? When he left the room?”

Effie thought about it. He sure had looked tired and out of place, but that was the norm for future tributes.

“I can’t believe you missed that,” said Silyah pointing to her upper lip.

“Seen what?” Effie loved gossip. Silyah had triggered her interest.

“He had a hot chocolate mustache,” Silyah shook her head, amused.

Effie laughed along with her. “I had not noticed!”

Their laughter filled the silence for several seconds until it eventually died down.

“This year’s Hunger Games are going to be _special_ , as you would say,” commented Effie. “You might want to go see Beetee, by the way. He is planning some strategies for you guys.”

“I will,” the girl got up and asked Effie where her mentor was.

“He hasn’t moved since we boarded the train,” Effie rolled her eyes; she had almost forgotten how mad Beetee had made her when he told her that she was not _observant._


	6. Chapter Five - What Comes Ahead

The next morning, Silyah woke up from a surprisingly peaceful dream. She yawned for a good fifteen minutes before finally deciding to get out of bed.

She opened the drawer at the front of her room and looked at the clothing inside of it. She picked a black shirt with three-quarter sleeves and threw on some simple black pants made of denim. Around her wrist, she tied a charm bracelet; her token from home.

She left her room in a good mood, which seemed strange to her considering her possible and imminent fate. She crossed Artemis’ room, which was right beside hers. She stopped, staring at his door, wondering if he was still asleep.

She knocked lightly on his door… No answer. Slowly, she twisted the handle. If Artemis was still sleeping, someone would eventually have to wake him up, after all. “Artemis?” she said softly. “Time to wake up.”

The raven-haired boy was still asleep. His hair was not as stiff as the day before, falling into his forehead and making him look younger than his age. Silyah almost felt bad about waking him up, but she really doubted that he would enjoy Effie Trinket as an alarm clock.

Artemis moved a little bit, revealing something hanging around his neck… Some sort of jewelry… The brown-haired girl stepped closer to Artemis, intrigued by the chain around his neck. The boy moved again, causing the item to slide out from between the sheets. It was some sort of coin with one single and clean hole at its center.

Silyah took another step. Why would a district boy carry a golden coin on a chain? Her fingers were tempted to brush the surface of the pendant.

The boy’s mismatching eyes shot open. “Silyah,” he gasped in surprise, making the girl jump. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Silyah jerked back her hand, just as surprised as the raven-haired boy. “I’m sorry. I just came by to wake you up,” she said, feeling the blush rising on her cheeks.

Artemis sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy black hair. He probably looked like a troll, right now.

“Well, hmm… Good morning, I guess,” quickly said Silyah as she got back to the door. She barely had the time to reach the door handle when it flew open.

“Time to wake up, we have a big, big, big day today!” Even with the early hour, Effie was already sporting her bright blue wig and lipstick. Artemis was so taken aback he barely noticed her attire. “Oh, you are both already up! Good! You can join us for breakfast when you will be ready,” she smiled at the two tributes and left the room, only leaving behind the sound of her heels on the floor.

Artemis blinked the sleep from his eyes. “Would you mind letting me get dressed alone?” He asked Silyah, lifting an eyebrow.

“Grumpy in the morning, aren’t you?” Silyah gave a quiet laugh and followed Effie. Artemis shook his head. This girl was nothing like those he knew.

Artemis got out of bed, took a quick shower and got dressed. He opted for a pastel blue shirt and buttoned it up, leaving the top three buttons opened. _Why not?_ He thought.

Artemis combed his hair, not bothering to smooth it back. It was a travel day, after all. Effie might have tried to object, but he was not overly concerned by what the “fashionistic” woman thought about his hair.

The Irish boy then walked to the kitchen wagon to find the rest of his fellow travelers already seated.

Beetee greeted the boy and pointed to the empty seat at his side. “I spent all night making a plan for your debut in the Games. I need your opinions.”

Artemis nodded and sat down in the empty chair.

“First off, the Training Center. Once you will get there, I suggest that you start with the survival stations. When you’ll feel ready to do so, move on to the fighting technique stations. In between your trainings, I want you two to make some allies.”

“Allies? I thought that everyone would be against everyone…” Artemis raised an eyebrow at Beetee.

“Oh, but, you won’t get too friendly with them… You just use them to keep you alive,” replied Beetee with a sombre smile.

Artemis nodded slowly. This made perfect sense. If you teamed up with someone who you’d most likely have to kill at some point in the Games, it was better not to befriend them too much. It would be hard enough for Artemis to take the life of someone he didn’t know; he could not dare to think about killing someone he might have built a trusting relationship with. It would be as good as impossible… Plus, he was not too keen on making Holly’s words from the Spiro case come true. She had compared him to Spiro, a cold-blooded killer, and he had every intention to prove her that he was not like him. Would that point of view change during the next weeks? Artemis hoped with all his heart that it would not.

“You watched the Reapings yesterday, so do you have any preferences for possible allies?” Beetee asked the two tributes. “They must be complementary to your personalities. Perhaps people with good fighting skills… Maybe Silver from 6, Kalheb from 9 or the ones from 12?”

Effie suddenly turned her attention to Beetee. “Kalheb? Wasn’t he the handsome one with the dark curls?”

Artemis rolled his eyes, raising his eyebrow once more, partly due Effie’s question, partly to add on to the look he was sending Silyah. They both really wondered what was going on inside of that woman’s head.

Silyah looked back at Artemis with a similar, but much more amused expression. Her gaze then went to Beetee, switching over to the serious side in the blink of an eye. “Silver looked like a fierce competitor, I don’t know if she would need an ally… The ones from 12 seem like plausible choices, but Kalheb… I don’t know.”

Effie gave her a stare that seemed to mean, “Excuse me?” then quickly gained back her composure. It was their choice after all. The beauty of the District 9 tribute probably intimidated them. Or they did not want Kalheb to take all of the viewers’ attention.

“I am not sure either,” said Artemis. “I might agree on the District 12 tributes… Silver seems to be strong on her own and Kalheb looks like too much of an attention seeker to me.”

Effie sighed, giving up her lost cause. So much for beauty in the Hunger Games…

Beetee cleared his throat. “Anyway… You will have plenty of time to get to know your fellow tributes in training.” He looked in his notebook. “Now, on to your public personas… What are your main character traits?”

 _Well,_ thought Artemis. His best friend – whom he had met when he had kidnapped her – was a fairy police officer. He schemed his way through life, he had saved his father from the Russian mafia, traveled in time and battled demons, which meant that he was determined… Or completely out of it. But that was certainly not what Beetee wanted to know about him.

Meanwhile, Silyah had also been thinking about how to describe herself. “I am a scientist and an artist,” she replied. “Knowledge and art are very dear to me, that’s what I grew up with.”

“During your Reaping, you looked quite shy, but now that we are talking face to face, you seem like a very sweet and deep person… If you feel comfortable with that description, try to exploit it as much as possible during all of the public events,” Beetee scribbled what he just said in his notebook as Silyah nodded at him. “What about you, Artemis?”

Taking the time to choose his words, Artemis began. “One could say that I am a prodigy and that I have… a rather dark sense of humor,” the boy thought about it and realized that most of the things he knew about himself were related to the People.

“You don’t like attention seekers, right?” Silyah mumbled under her breath, smiling.

Artemis gave her a rather intense look, raising both of his eyebrows at the same, as to say, “ _I heard that one_.” Burying her face in her waist-long hair, Silyah laughed some more.

“Alright,” Beetee brought them back to the strategies. “Artemis, I see your persona as the very clever and almost mysterious guy.”

Mysterious, indeed… Artemis could not help but the smile his infamous vampire smile.

 _Clever, mysterious and slightly scary…_ Thought Effie, looking at the boy’s smirk.

“Good,” Beetee nodded. “Now, for the arena… You must know that there is a very strong force field around it. If you touch it, you might die of a cardiac arrest, however, force fields are a great way to cook food if you don’t mind very well-cooked meat.”

Artemis’s face vaguely turned into grimace. He was not too fond of the idea of cooking food on a force field, especially since Beetee seemed to alluding to the fact that they could also try to cook their enemies…

“Now, if you don’t want to bump into the force field, here is a little District 3 secret; you have to scan the horizon and search for a shimmering spot. That will be the force field.” Beetee scratched “force field” from his “to-mention-during-a-meeting” list. “Also, the arena, as you are well aware of, will be filled with dangers. From the very beginning, when your platform will lift you in the arena, you will have to quickly take in the surroundings and get away as soon as you can.”

Artemis was listening, taking in every word Beetee said. For some reason, this briefing reminded him of Foaly. Somehow, it felt reassuring to find people he could relate too in this crazy world, even if the resemblance was only a small one.

“Do you think that we should grab anything at the Cornucopia?” wondered Silyah.

 _Cornucopia?_ Artemis had yet to be aware of that thing.

Beetee scratched his chin. “If the survival material is scattered around the Cornucopia, then you might want to get a few things. If you can, find a backpack, a knife or a water bottle, but don’t risk your life for anything fancy… And remember to stay on your platforms until the 60 seconds countdown is over… You would not want to blow up, right?”

Blowing up… Artemis thought about it… If it was anything like the sonic fairy bombs he had used back in the restaurant in Knightsbridge, he’d better stay in place for those 60 seconds.

Some train employees brought the group their breakfast and they ate, talking about the risks of the arena. Speaking about it strangely made the situation more real, yet easier to deal with.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Beetee said between two mouthfuls of a strange fruit. “If you two were to meet in the arena, feel free to help one another. I have a feeling that you both get along quite well, you could make a good team… But you better split up before the risk of being the two last tributes standing gets too high…”

Artemis nodded. He knew perfectly well that it would be the best thing to do. If Silyah and he were to end up as the two last ones, as unlikely as it might be, they would have to fight each other and Artemis was pretty sure that Silyah could be able to take him down with ease… But still, it might be better to get killed by someone you might have trusted than by some brutal guy who only killed for amusement.

The breakfast now over, Effie sent the two tributes to their rooms in order to dress in a way that would be more suited for their arrival to the Capitol. After completing this task, the rest of the train ride would be all theirs.

* * *

Artemis had changed to a white shirt, now buttoning it all the way up. The trousers he had chosen had on their sides a line that seemed to faintly glow.

After smoothing back his hair, he went to the living room wagon and sat by the window, watching the landscape as it flashed by.

Silyah joined him a few minutes later, wearing a pair of slim-fitted pants and a long-sleeved shirt made of black laser-cut lace over a purple tank top. The girl looked at him, from the tip of his shoes to his slicked back raven hair. “Very elegant but, you should… Button down a bit,” she said determinedly.

“Button down a bit?” Artemis gave her a strange look.

“Why not?” she smiled, shrugging.

“Perhaps because I don’t want to,” he replied.

“Okay, I have to admit that this is a fair reason, but we are going to the Capitol! The city of luxury and excess and… Well, you should loosen up a bit, mustache boy,” she smiled once again, nearly wanting to wink at him, though thinking that it might be pushing it.

Artemis gave her an unamused look. He was rather grumpy, really, but it amazed him how cheerful Silyah was considering what was coming ahead of them. “How can you be this happy?” he asked her as she sat in front of him.

“That would be because I live in the past and in the present rather than in the future… If I am to die soon, I want to enjoy every peaceful and happy moments life can give me.”

Artemis was slightly surprised by the answer. For someone like himself, who literally was stuck in the future, thinking like that could not do much to him. Still, he could understand Silyah. She could be dying very soon… Although _she_ could have the possibility of dying in her own time, with the people she knew still alive to mourn her passing. He would most likely die too, only _he_ had not even thought about the consequences of his death. For all he knew, a time paradox might decide to backfire and destroy the planet, and Artemis knew that Holly would not exactly appreciate that.

“No comment?” asked Silyah, eyeing the boy who seemed lost in his thoughts. “You know, you have a really intense thinking face.”

Artemis blinked, “I beg you pardon?”

“You have a very intense thinking face,” she repeated. “Your eyes look centuries away…”

 _Centuries._ The word made Artemis’s mismatching eyes darken. He let out a weak sigh. He briefly wondered how many centuries had passed since he left. How long had he been gone? Were there even any Fowls left in this world apart from him? What of the People? Was Holly still alive? The more he thought about it, the worst it got. His facial expression never changed, but a deep pain flashed in his blue and hazel eyes.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Silyah felt like reaching for his hand to try to comfort him, unaware that she was not supposed to see through his emotional façade.

Artemis’s eyes snapped once again back to the “present.” “Nothing… I am just feeling a little homesick,” it wasn’t even a lie, but he was certainly not talking about the home Silyah would associate with the sentence.

“So do I… But I like to keep in mind that home is where the heart is…”

 _If only is was not so far away,_ thought Artemis, bringing one hand up to the golden coin around his neck, the reminder of the spark of decency in him. He highly doubted that decency would have the power to save his life in the arena.

Silyah curiously eyed the strange symbols on Artemis’s coin. “I’ve been thinking,” she began. “If we were to meet in the arena, we could find a secret way to communicate. Just in case.”

Artemis nodded, both glad to change the subject and thinking that it was a rather clever idea. “I think that I might know a way,” he said with a secretive, mysterious smirk.


	7. Chapter Six - The Capitol

On the horizon, the Capitol skyline began to appear, revealing itself from behind the train’s windows. Effie had gone through most of the wagons before finding Artemis and Silyah in the living room cart.

“Better get ready to leave the train!” She told them in her singsong voice. “We will arrive in the Capitol very, very soon!”

“Thanks, Effie,” said Silyah as the two tributes got up to get the last of their very few belongings in their rooms. On their way, Silyah turned to the raven-haired boy, “So, do you think you are ready?” she asked him.

“As ready as I can be when I am mere weeks away from entering an arena along with 23 other people that will be forced to kill one another.”

“I suppose that is good,” she said.

Artemis gave her a half smile. “We better get ready before Effie decides to do it for us.”

She eyed him. “By the way… You should button down a bit,” she gave him another one of her joking, yet sincere smiles.

Artemis sighed. “That, Miss Silyah, is my choice.” He got in his room and closed the door.

Silyah rolled her smiling eyes and disappeared in her own room.

When she came back, Artemis was apparently still in his apartment. _Guys take so much time to get ready nowadays…_ She sighed, digging a hand in the pocket of her leather jacket.

Silyah gently knocked on his door. “Don’t you want to see the Capitol, Mr. Fowl? It is splendid from where we will be, or at least, that’s what Effie told me.”

“ _Master_ Fowl,” came the reply from the other side of the door.

“You haven’t won the games yet, _Master,_ ” she spoke the last word mimicking his accent.

Artemis stuck his head out the door. “Very amusing today, aren’t we?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, you would not want to miss our stop right?” she said, an ounce of sarcasm in her voice.

Artemis sighed. “Fine, I’m coming,” he closed the door behind him, adjusting the collar of his jacket. He had been surprised by his outfit choice. Leather was not usually something he would go for, but perhaps the fashion of Panem was rubbing off on him.

As soon as the boy got out of his room, Silyah nearly dragged him towards the closest window, where Effie and Beetee were already waiting.

“Wow…” voiced Silyah in a whisper, her eyes seemingly glued to the window. She took in the tall and colorful buildings scrapping the sky. The city was surrounded by water, which was reflecting the impressive skyline, giving the Capitol an impression of infinity.

Artemis agreed with Silyah’s “comment,” though he would not have used the word “wow.” The Capitol’s architecture was unlike anything Artemis might have been used to. It did seem modern, but some old traces – inspired by Ancient Rome, perhaps – were present everywhere, revealing a timeless prestige. The Capitol was nothing like the Districts. This was where the rich and successful lived… The rulers of the land of Panem…

Suddenly, their view was obscured. They were entering a long tunnel, probably the one leading to the train station.

About two dark minutes later, they were indeed inside the Capitol’s railroad terminal.

Silyah could not believe her eyes. An enormous crowd armed with cameras was standing on the side of the massive high-speed train, which had started to slow down considerably. When these people – who were all dressed in a kaleidoscopic range of colors and styles – caught a glimpse of the District 3 tributes, they all began whispering, taking their pictures and waving at them.

“They are like an army of Effies,” Silyah whispered in Artemis’s ear. She could not help but to wave back at the bizarre people.

Artemis could not hide a smile. That was a pretty accurate observation, though to him, the crowd outside could have sported the outfits of a plethora of popular singers from his days.

“Artemis?” Silyah turned her light blue eyes on him. “Could you promise me something?”

“I suppose that it would depend on what you will ask of me…”

“If my knees feel like giving up on me when we will disembark the train, please try to prevent me from hitting the ground,” she gave out a laugh, but she really did mean her request.

“I’ll do my best,” came the reply.

The train stopped. Everything fell silent for a moment. Then, the doors opened. Screams and cheers from the Capitol citizens engulfed the silence.

Effie gently pushed the tributes towards the big doors. About a step away from them, Silyah felt the stares of the audience and felt ever so slightly shaky. Being a young man of his word, Artemis grabbed her shoulder. It would be both embarrassing and painful to fall there.

Faster than in the blink of an eye, Silyah’s hand went to the boy’s collar, “Got you,” she said with a sly smile as she steadied herself, hiding the actual shaking of her hands by placing them on the railing of the train’s stairs.

Artemis let go of her shoulder and looked down with a sigh. She had somehow managed to open up the first button of his shirt. “You’ve hardly known me for more than a day and you are already trying to strip me?” Artemis Fowl was known for his genius, not his sense of humor.

Silyah looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “I’m not trying to strip you, I’m just improving your fashion life,” she whispered, imitating Effie’s accent as she climbed down the stairs.

“Whatever you choose to call it,” came the reply.

“Come on, you two! We have to get to the training center in time,” called Effie from behind her tributes. She did not look so out of place anymore among those Capitol people. Once they were all disembarked, the escort took the lead of the group, taking them to a prestigious-looking black car with tinted windows. Seated beside Artemis and Silyah, Effie contemplated the obvious, “Artemis, your shirt really looks better on you when worn this way,” a statement that earned her a discouraged sigh from the boy in question and a short nod from Silyah.

On their way to the Training Center, the tributes got to see the city they had looked at from afar. Colorful buildings bubbling with activity, strange looking people and more importantly, advertisements for the 80th Annual Hunger Games were everywhere they glanced. On one screen, they even saw their own car rolling towards the Training Center. They were celebrities, unfortunately acclaimed for the possibility of their deaths.

A colossal building then appeared into view, standing out from the rest of the Capitol. It was higher by several meters compared to most of the other skyscrapers in the area… Before the group now stood the Training Center in all of its _Capitolesque_ glory.

Another gathering of Capitol citizens, this time accompanied by official people of the press, was at the foot of the Center. The District 3 car avoided the mob and drove towards an underground parking.

Once the car stopped, Effie thanked the driver and continued to push the tributes around the place, this time sending them towards an elevator. A lady all dressed in white pressed one button, sending the elevator to a place called _The Remake Center._

The doors barely had the time to open that a group of three people materialized in front of the elevator.

“District 3?” one asked.

Effie nodded. “They all are yours,” she said, getting out of the lift.

The three members of the District 3 prep team surrounded Silyah, indicating her to follow them.

“This is going to be fun… Or a real pain depending on what your perspective is,” muttered Silyah as she was being lead away from the rest of the group, sending Artemis a look which seemed to say: _“_ _Oh, you are next.”_

In fact, Artemis’s preparation team arrived very shortly after Silyah’s departure, all of them chatting quickly between themselves as they guided Artemis to their quarters. As if the situation was not worrying enough…

* * *

The three bizarre assistant stylists had stripped Artemis of his clothes and had handed him a bathrobe as soon as they had closed the doors behind them.

 _Was every person in this country trying to get him naked?_ The thought crossed his mind as one of the assistant got him into a shower.

The man with bright, almost fluorescent, yellow hair pressed on a series of buttons on the shower’s door. Apparently, the Capitol showers were automatic.

After ever inch of Artemis’s skin was scrubbed and exfoliated, the prep team sat him on a table, carefully eyeing him. “He’s got extremely pale skin,” said the only lady in the trio. “Like porcelain… Lovely.”

The assistants gathered around him. One began to work on his hair, the other one on his face, while the woman took his hands and began to give him a manicure.

At this point, Artemis had never felt more like he used to feel at home. The boy only felt slightly creeped out by the team since they mostly reminded him of the army of hairdressers his mother probably had on speed dial.

Once they were done, the prep team left Artemis alone in the room, way too under-dressed for his liking.

A slender woman eventually arrived in the room, carrying a bag – in which was probably an outfit – and a drawing pad. Her hair was tangled up into an intricate golden updo and her fake eyelashes were made of long and wispy peacock feathers. She had sharp features and minimal makeup. Her skin had a golden shimmer, just like her long yet simple dress. “Hello, Artemis Fowl,” she said, observing him.

Artemis was just as observant towards the woman as she was towards him. _Oh, great…_ Another Capitol inhabitant looking at his almost naked body. He already liked this place…

“I will be your stylist for the entire period before the Games, and who knows, I might still be at your disposal after them,” she rolled her “R”s whenever she pronounced one. “I am Ilranor,” she studied every angle on Artemis’s face. “You have a rather stunning appearance, you know,” she added.

Artemis gave her a small smile. “Thank you,” he replied, as polite as always. He was a Fowl after all.

Ilranor went through her drawing pad and stopped on one page. “Your friend’s stylist and I worked on two collaboration pieces that would represent District 3, one for tonight’s parade and one for the interview. This is what we came up with for you tonight,” she showed him her design. It was a jumpsuit made entirely of black fabric, except for the shoulder area, which was silver. On that silver piece was what looked like spikes made of crystal. Ilranor handed Artemis the drawing pad and retrieved the outfit from the bag, presenting it to her tribute. She then pressed on the hem of the left sleeve and all of a sudden, the outfit came to life. The crystal studs on the jumpsuit’s shoulder pads were glowing in various shades of purple, blue and white. All of the seam lines became illuminated; a white light looked as if it was traveling through the stitching, leaving behind a trail of purple and heading towards an infinity of blue.

She turned the suit off. “What do you think?”

It took Artemis’s brain a few seconds to produce a reply. “It’s unique. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Do you like it?” She gave Artemis the outfit in exchange for her drawing pad. She let him study it carefully.

“Yes, I like it.” It wasn’t like he could tell her otherwise anyway.

She helped him get in the suit and placed something in his hair, the two extremities of it resting on his temples. She stepped back and looked at her creation. “I think that you are ready,” she smiled, revealing a set of teeth so white that they almost looked blue.


	8. Chapter Seven - The Parade

“Let’s go see Silyah, shall we?” Ilranor eyed Artemis once again, satisfied with how her outfit came out. Artemis simply nodded as the lady in gold turned around and opened the door of her quarters.

Upon leaving the room, Artemis noticed something shiny under the pile of clothes he had worn prior to being styled; the golden coin Holly had given him. Quickly, he took it from underneath the pile. He closed the chain around his neck and carefully hid it under his jumpsuit as he followed his stylist.

The slender woman walked swiftly among the sea of stylists and extravagant outfits until she caught sight of a door on which the number three had been painted. She opened the door for Artemis and motioned for him to go inside. Ilranor followed the boy, carefully shutting the entrance door behind her and thus joining Silyah and her stylist, as well as Effie and Beetee, who were already inside the room.

The young girl’s long and naturally curly hair had been straightened, and something that looked like a laurel crown was on her temples. She was wearing a more feminine version of what Artemis was currently wearing.

“Go beside her,” excitedly instructed Ilranor to Artemis.

Artemis gave his stylist a nod before he walked over to Silyah. “You look stunning.”

“So do you,” she replied, hoping that her concealer would hide how flustered comments about her looks made her feel.

“Save the compliments for later and run your fingers on the hem of your left sleeves!” exclaimed Silyah’s stylist.

The two tributes did as they were told and lit up their glowing outfits. “Now, Silyah, run your finger on the seam of your left shoulder. Artemis, do the same thing with the right one.”

Artemis raised an eyebrow but did as Silyah’s stylist instructed.

“Alone, these outfits look really pretty and all, but as a pair, they are a miracle of science, thanks to your district,” the male stylist continued. He turned the two tributes so that they faced a large mirror on the wall.

Silyah gasped and watched in amazement. She had seen her outfit light up when she had tried it on, but that was a whole other story…

A multitude of electric arcs had formed between Artemis and Silyah’s shoulders, dancing between the crystal spikes, creating various shapes, but most of all, spelling an imposing “District 3” every now and then. The result was electrifying!

Artemis was also gazing at their reflection with fascination. The raven-haired boy starring back at him from the mirror could not be _him_ , he thought. Obviously, it was him, but somehow, Artemis had trouble believing it. He and Silyah looked like ultramodern Greek deities. Artemis’s lips formed a smile. This was impressive; he had to admit it. Turning the two teenagers into human Tesla Coils – or perhaps some type of electrical holographic devices using such refined materials was no mean feat.

“Your costumes are going to be quite a shocker tonight!” beamed Ilranor. “And, just for your personal information, these suits have no external powersources. They are rechargeable by motion. If ever you feel like you are not shining bright enough, move a little bit and enjoy the sparks!”

“This is simply remarkable,” said Silyah, looking at the two beautiful strangers of light in the mirror.

“I can’t but agree,” nodded Artemis.

“Fabulous!” Proclaimed Effie. “Very fashionistic!” She applauded the two stylists and looked at the time. “We better go to the carts, the show is about to start! Oh, and deactivate your suits before the parade actually begins. Keep them a surprise for the other tributes.”

Artemis and Silyah turned off their magnificent lights and Effie’s high heels began to echo in the small room. The group followed the stylists out of the preparation area to go where the parade carts led by majestic horses were parked.

For the first time, the District 3 team would meet the other tributes.

They had barely landed a foot inside the carts’ docking bay when they heard Effie squeal, not too loudly, but very obviously. They turned, their eyes falling on the object of Effie’s attention. “He is even more handsome face to face,” she whispered. Apparently, she had seen Kalheb Frotz.

Artemis could not resist rolling his eyes. Kalheb Frotz was perhaps 18 years of age, with a faint tan and golden eyes. Dark brown curls covered his forehead and he seemed way too fond of the attention his female stylist was giving him as she was placing a few of his dark locks.

“Look at the other District girls already trying to befriend him,” sighed Silyah. Effie gave her a look, which Silyah replied to with a shrug and a nonchalant: “He’s just not my type.”

“Then, what exactly is _your_ type, Silyah,” asked Artemis with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I have no social life; I don’t have a _type._ ” She rolled her eyes and smirked back at him. “Why would you even want to know?”

“Curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she laughed.

Artemis’s smirk grew. “And satisfaction brought him back.”

“Huh?” Silyah raised an eyebrow, honestly wondering what that last statement meant. She shook her head. “Do you want to go see some other tributes?” she suggested, trying to move on to another subject.

Artemis gave her a sign of approval. “I see no reason not to. It’s always a good thing to know the faces of the people you’ll be hunting, or get hunted by, on a matter of perspective,” he told her.

They walked side by side through the carts, carefully observing everybody. The tributes were apparently already forming cliques; the Careers had found one another, whereas most of the other tributes were just chatting calmly. The pre-game atmosphere had changed a lot since the earliest Hunger Games… How strange was that? The tributes were actually talking and laughing and yet, in a few days, they would all be trying to kill one another.

There were a few tributes already standing out of the group, either by their stature or by their entourage. Kalheb was surrounded by quite a few of the girls and was trying to meet as many people as he could, even the Careers. In the opposite corner of the room was a brown-haired girl, also observing the scene. Silyah quickly recognized Silver.

Silyah was about to ask Artemis whom he wanted to meet first when four tributes walked towards them. Two were entirely dressed in colorful threads, much like string dolls. The other girl was wearing a long, stiff looking shiny black dress with some flame-colored accent pieces, which went rather well with her light blond hair. The boy from her district was sporting the same type of fabric, but on a suit. Their arms had been painted to look as if they were wearing gloves made of coal.

“District 8 and 12,” whispered Silyah, mostly to herself.

“You are from District 3, right?” asked the girl in the black dress.

“Yes,” confirmed Artemis.

The girl smiled. “Hi! I’m Quartz. District 12, as you could have guessed.”

The boy in the black suit introduced himself as Scpenser Ross, while the ginger-haired girl with dark blue eyes from 8 was Thea.

Judging by the two girls’ looks, they could not be more than twelve years old.

“And I’m Cylan,” said Thea’s fellow male tribute.

Silyah shook the hands offered to her and introduced herself.

“And who are you?” Scpenser asked the boy who had remained quiet during the presentations.

“Artemis,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you, Art,” nodded the District 12 boy.

Artemis’s face changed to a subtle displeased look. He did not enjoy pet names… Except, maybe for one… But then again, very few people had a strong enough relationship with him to actually be able to use it.

A supervisor then announced that the supper had arrived, much to the joy of the tributes from the poorest districts. Most of them were already craving the limitless amount of delicious food the Capitol would offer them and nothing would stop them from taking advantage of that.

* * *

After the quick lunch break, the Games’ supervisors requested that the tributes go to their chariots.

Beetee was beside Artemis and Silyah’s when they arrived.

“When you will be paraded around, just act natural,” he advised them, not losing a second. “Whatever is feeling right to you: do it… Unless the Capitol would disapprove of it, of course.”

The stylists quickly fixed the District 3 tributes’ hair and makeup and activated their suits, helping them climb up in their chariot.

A countdown was displayed on the front wall of the room. When it ended, the national anthem of Panem began to play. The massive doors of the chariots’ room opened up to a cheerful and colorful audience and the horses started to move.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the wait is finally over! Live from the Capitol, I am proud to present you, the tributes of the 80th Annual Hunger Games!” A powerful voiced burst through the Capitol’s City Circle. “I’m Caesar Flickerman, here with my pal, Claudius Templesmith, ready to be your eyes and ears for tonight.”

“What a fine evening we have! Almost as fine as our brand new tributes, don’t you all agree?” The crowd went completely wild as Claudius Templesmith spoke and as they caught a glimpse of the first tributes.

A few horse steps away from the doors, Silyah looked at Artemis. She was more stable on her two feet than she had been during the Reaping, and that was despite her high heels, which had been designed to be shaped like black lightning bolts decorated with circuit patterns.

Once they got through the doors, Artemis became aware that there would be no going back. Of course, there had been “no going back” ever since his name had been picked during the Reaping, but this was one of the few last steps before the dead end Artemis would soon have to face.

The girl slid her arm around his, almost as if she had read his dark thoughts and was trying to give him some strength. That one simple movement had caused their suits to glow brighter. The electric arcs flickered between their shoulders.

“Oh my! Look at these two! The tributes from District 3 are making sparks!” Caesar commented, making the crowd cheer even louder.

“They are electrifying the streets of the Capitol, ladies and gentlemen!” added Claudius before reciting a few statistics about District 3’s previous tributes.

Meanwhile, Artemis had given Silyah a puzzled look. Physical contact? Not that it mattered much, thought the boy as the audience’s passionate cheering and applauding rang in his ears.

“Don’t look at me like that! Just look at them and enjoy this moment!” said Silyah, almost euphoric. She smiled and waved at the people chanting their names, pretending that she was not debilitatingly nervous on the inside.

Artemis did not exactly feel good about all this attention either. All those eyes starring at him… He was a criminal mastermind for crying out loud! He was working in the shadows and he always would until he intended for the world to know him. Now, he was forced under the spotlight and it made him uncomfortable.

Silyah squeezed Artemis’s arm. She was way too good at reading his state of mind. “If you feel uncomfortable, try to imagine _these people_ in their underwear,” she whispered, laughing.

The comment actually brought a smirk on his lips. To imagine the crowd in underwear might work for ordinary people, but Artemis Fowl II would certainly not do it.

About twenty minutes later, the twelve chariots made their way to the front of the Capitol’s City Circle, under showers of affection from the audience and clever quips from Caesar and Claudius. The extended version of the Panem anthem came to an end and the crowd quieted down.

A short man with an immaculate white beard stood up from a balcony. He saluted the audience, one slim hand raised in the air. Caesar introduced him as the leader of Panem; President Coriolanus Snow. The man dropped his arm and adjusted his microphone. “Dear people of Panem,” he began. “Let the 80th Annual Hunger Games begin… And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!” He articulated slowly, pronouncing each word with great care. Just from his demeanor, the man seemed to be a formidable and charismatic speaker, albeit a terryfing one. Judging by the other tributes’ expressions, the president was undoubtedly to blame for a lot of the horrors and massacres that afflicted Panem.

Artemis did not know this man, but he already felt a considerable amount of loathing towards him. How could the man supposed to run a nation even allow this kind of bloodbath to occur once a year? It disgusted Artemis deeply.

The president gave a speech similar to the one the Mayors of the districts had given their people during the Reapings. He did, however, put a special emphasis on the fact that the beautiful country of Panem would not be what it was were it not for the Hunger Games; a statement to which, every single district residents of Panem could have disproved in one witty or sarcastic reply.

 _If it weren’t for the Hunger Games,_ thought Artemis, _so many innocent young people would not have to die each year._ How the deaths of so many citizens could help a nation was lost to him. He saw no beauty, nor practicality in that logic.

By the look on Silyah’s face, she did not seem to appreciate the speech either.

For a moment, Artemis’s gaze met Silyah’s. How were people able to live like that? Those from Artemis’s time would certainly not accept such a way of ruling governmental affairs. Though to be fair, war was not any better that the Games, it was simply more chaotic.

President Snow concluded his speech with a concise statement about control and unity before announcing the ceremony’s special guests. “And now, I would like to present you this year’s Head Gamemaker and his talented crew: the one and only Plutarch Heavensbee and the Gamemakers,” he gave a nod to the people in question before leaving the podium. Plutarch took his place, a small crew of Gamemakers following him.

For the past minute or so, Artemis had felt one particularly burning gaze in his direction and he had been looking for the source of it. Now, he knew. He had found a pair of deep brown eyes up on the balcony… Eyes he knew all too well… Only this time, they looked more _human_.

The familiar Gamemaker and the District 3 tribute gazed into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an oddly long time. She cocked her head and smiled.

There was no place for doubt in Artemis’s mind. _She_ was here, in Panem, in the Captiol and as one of the Gamemakers. Now, those death Games seemed easier to understand. _She_ was a maniac; if she was part of all of this, who knew what she might do to make sure she would enjoy watching his death on a big screen.

If it had not been for the audience watching her, she would have given the boy a mix of a disgusted and triumphant look, but that would not have been too pretty, so she abstained.

Artemis quickly glanced away, his mind beginning to race.

The Head Gamemaker introduced the members of his team and went back to his seat. The national anthem played once again and the tributes were paraded one last time through the City Circle.

Artemis slid his arm around Silyah’s, creating gleaming sparks around them; everything to wipe the brown-eyed lady’s face from his retinae.

The Capitol’s audience members were still screaming their lungs out when the last two tributes, Quartz and Scpenser from District 12, got back in the Training Center.

The door closed behind them and each of the twelve carts was suddenly surrounded by members of their official teams.


	9. Chapter Eight - About the Present

“Well done kids!” cheered Effie Trinket while the stylists helped the two teenagers in question out of their parade chariot. Meanwhile, the two jet-black horses that had conducted the District 3 tributes through the city neighed happily as Beetee scratched their heads.

Artemis gave Effie a smile, “Thank you,” he said. “The audience was…” Artemis paused, thinking of a word that was not too offensive to describe an audience cheering for the death of the people in front of them.

“The audience was very passionate,” concluded Silyah for him. Artemis gave her a brief “thank you” look _._

“They had every reason to be!” confirmed Effie, smiling.

 _Oh yes,_ thought Artemis, _who wouldn’t be passionate about the people they are soon to watch fight for their lives._ Panem had a thing for bringing down Artemis’s mood.

Beetee got away from the horses and joined his team. “You made a really good impression. The cameras were drawn to you both.”

Silyah’s stylist attempted to give the girl a congratulatory hug despite the electric arcs still emanating from her shoulders. “Thanks for the beautiful costume, Xarone,” she told him.

Ilranor smiled at the teenagers. “Congratulations. You were splendid together,” she looked over to Artemis and deactivated the tributes’s suits, giving one final admiring glance towards her and Xarone’s creations. “I cannot wait to show you what we just made for your interviews later this week,” she then added with satisfaction.

Everyone in the team except Beetee seemed oblivious to the fact that the Hunger Games were a twisted and cruel form of entertainment… That the first impression the two tributes had just made was only meant for the audience to get to know the kids who would have one chance out of twenty-four of still being alive after the Games…

Artemis turned towards Beetee, suddenly feeling as if the countdown of the parade had been part of the countdown of his life. “When will you start coaching us?”

Beetee gave him an understanding look. “As soon as you come back from your first training session. I will need to know your actual strengths before making any plans,” the man answered before looking at his watch. “I think that it would be the time to go to our room before the elevator gets too busy,” he told Effie.

The woman nodded and pushed the group towards an elevator made of crystal. “This system is really simple,” she said as they boarded it. “There are twelve floors dedicated to the tributes; you will have to press on the button labeled with a ‘three’ and voilà! You will climb up to your new temporary home.”

Temporary. The word reminded the tributes that their time in the beautiful – almost heavenly – apartments of the Capitol would be extremely limited. Soon enough, the only shelter they would have would be a treacherous arena and only one person would have the privilege to see the outside world again.

Effie pressed on the number ‘three’ and in less than five seconds, the group was on their floor.

Two people dressed entirely in white, a boy and a girl, greeted them silently at their arrival. They then showed them the modern and expensive-looking rooms of the third floor.

There were bedrooms and private bathrooms for everyone, a nice living room area with an enormous window giving on a Capitol street and a beautiful kitchen in which food was automatically delivered to anyone who wanted something to eat.

If there was anything good in this future, this had to be it. Even Artemis had to admit that he was impressed.

Every single window in the building had an interactive feature on which the people looking through it could decide of the view they wanted to have. The showers were the same automatic ones as those in the Remake Center and the furniture was the most luxurious and high-tech items one could think of. The place was a technological and architectural marvel.

The people in white left the group as soon as they were done with the tour.

“If you ever need anything, they will come to you,” Effie told her tributes, speaking about the quiet strangers.

Silyah nodded quickly, and then decided to go explore the apartment. She had seen so many new objects and she craved to examine them from up close.

Artemis had chosen to follow Silyah; he had some questions for her.

The girl was marveling over the windows of the living room when she heard the sound of Artemis’s footsteps behind her. “Amazing isn’t it?” She asked him as she made the window zoom on the moon.

“Yes, truly amazing…” he nodded. “Silyah, may I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course,” she turned her ice-blue eyes towards him.

“Who were these people dressed in white?”

She gave him a curious look. “They were Avoxes. Haven’t you heard of them before?”

Artemis shook his head. “No, what are they?”

Silyah sat on the window’s ledge. “They are prisoners of the Capitol. They were punished either for treason, or because they tried to run away from their districts. The word Avox actually comes from Greek and Latin words that mean ‘without a voice.’ You probably noticed why.”

Artemis frowned. “Prisoners,” he murmured, clearly displeased. “Are they not allowed to talk?”

“Not only are they forced to work for the Capitol like slaves, but they also undergo a very painful treatment,” Silyah shivered only by thinking about it. “They get their tongues cut off to make sure they stay silent…” she added in a whisper.

Artemis looked ever so slightly sick. “They… That’s macabre!”

Silyah nodded, a sad look appearing on her usually joyful face. “Don’t try to socialize with them, I heard that if they tried to communicate, either by writing or by sign language, they would get in even more trouble.”

“That’s just sick…” He lacked a better word. “How can a world be peaceful if people are treated like that?” Artemis clearly didn’t like this new piece of information.

Silyah shrugged. “That’s why most people prefer to follow the law and tolerate the Capitol.” She looked back at the moon in the digital window. “Sometimes I wonder how it was like before all of this…” She pressed a button on the window’s remote and an areal view of Panem appeared on it. “That’s why I love to learn about History.”

Artemis closed a fist. If he ever got back into the past, he would do anything he could to prevent this madness from happening. “So, you know about the past?” he asked, wanting to bring the subject to a lighter place.

“Well, you heard me the other day when I was speaking with the teacher…” she replied. “I don’t know that much about History, but that’s because no one will let us, district kids, know…”

She had a point. “How much do you know?”

“I read about a few things here and there about places like North America and Europe. Most of the things I could find were geographical facts,” she paused, recalling a few of the most interesting facts she had learned. “I also found a book about mythology in various countries,” she added.

“Mythology? Found something in particular?”

Her eyes lit up, remembering a page that she had read a long time ago. “Artemis,” she whispered. “Oh, that is why your name sounded so familiar! I did read about it.” She smiled. “She was a goddess of the moon right? The Goddess of hunting?”

Artemis nodded with a smirk. “Indeed.”

“Lovely name…” She looked at the boy. “And what about you? What do _you_ know about the past?” she wondered, curious.

Artemis gave her a mysterious grin. “More that you’d imagine…”

“May I get a sample of your knowledge, _Master_ Fowl?”

The grin widened. “What would you like to know, _Miss_ Silyah?”

The girl thought about it. There were so many things she could ask about. “Do you know about the era just before all of those natural disasters began to affect the planet? About the way the people lived back then?”

“Let’s see… The twenty-first century?” He asked in his teacher-like, lecturing voice. Silyah nodded. “The people back then lived very differently than in the districts, as you might have guessed. In most countries, they had more freedom. Technology was a very important part of their lives.”

“I read that humans once traveled to space…” Silyah added thoughtfully.

“Yes, they did, multiple times,” he nodded, briefly wondering what had happened on Earth – or perhaps in space – for spaceships to disappear. If he ever managed to get back to his time, Artemis would make sure to hurry up his space exploration plans. Perhaps Mars would be an interesting destination.

Artemis and Silyah were quiet for a moment, each of them thinking about the past. Then, Artemis spoke again. “Most countries were trying to live in peace and agreement… They were attempting to cooperate through a system called the United Nations. The world’s leaders wanted to remember the past in order not to repeat the same mistakes as their ancestors,” he explained.

Silyah’s head dropped down. “Well, they clearly are making one big mistake right now…” she replied. She suddenly felt like slapping herself for having said such a thing while being inside a building owned and monitored by the government. “I think that humans back in the days made stupid decisions about how they treated the planet, but they seemed to live in good conditions when it came to political judgment… Or at least, they lived in better conditions than what _we_ know now.”

“I can’t but agree. People seem to have gone back to the Stone Age, or rather back to Rome, with the Colosseum.”

“Ancient Rome. Yes, that’s very true,” Silyah smiled, looking up. Her expression was halfway between sadness, nostalgia and tiredness. “Where did you learn about those ancient societies?”

Artemis thought about it, choosing his words carefully. “I have always been fascinated with them… If you do enough research on something, you will eventually find what you are looking for,” this strategy had indeed proved itself useful when he had been searching for the People.

Silyah was about to reply something like, “maybe I’ll try that one day,” but she realized that it might not even be possible anymore. She frowned and went back to playing around with the window’s settings. She zoomed in on a busy street of the Capitol. “Just look at them…”

People were coming and going, not worrying about how much money they could spend in one store, how much food they could eat in those expensive restaurants or how many body modifications they could undergo. All of them had no idea regarding what was truly going on elsewhere.

“And now look at _this_ ,” Silyah pressed on the remote. Images of the twelve districts of Panem began to appear on the window. The streets were empty; people were working their lives away in order to put food on their plates.

“If this is supposed to be a good world, I would almost prefer it being bad…” Artemis frowned. “What happened to _all people are born equal?_ ”

They contemplated the windows, which Silyah had programmed to show the moon once again. “Some people are more equal than others,” she answered.

“George Orwell’s _Animal Farm_?” Artemis raised an eyebrow, recognizing the statement from Orwell’s short novel.

Silyah nodded, grinning. “Yes, my uncle actually managed to find that book and gave it to me for my birthday.”

Slowly, the girl got up and stretched. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?” she asked Artemis.

It was now Artemis’s turn to nod. “Why not,” he said getting up.

“We might as well take advantage of the unlimited food supplies,” she winked.

* * *

The two tributes were seated at the kitchen’s table, each of them with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, when Silyah said: “You know, even if all these horrible things are upon us, I can at least say that I am in good company in this crazy adventure.”

“You find _Effie_ to be good company?” Artemis raised an eyebrow. A joke? What was this place doing to him? Perhaps it was not the place, but the girl he was trapped there with…

She laughed softly, making locks of her hair, which were already starting to curl again, fall in front of her eyes. “But of course! She is very delightful!” Her fake Capitol accent was an exact copy of Effie’s.

“That imitation is not so bad, you’ve got a talent. Show that to the Gamemakers and sponsors and they’ll adore you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could imitate Effie in the arena and bring someone to a death of despair,” she chuckled.

“That tactic might actually work…” Artemis leaned back in his chair, bringing the cup of hot chocolate to his lips.

Silyah starred at him, still very amused about Artemis’s previous hot chocolate mustache.

Artemis raised an eyebrow towards her. “What are you looking at?” He asked, letting the cup sink. No mustache in sight this time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a sip in her own cup. “Still thinking about that _fashionistic_ mustache of yours.”

Artemis raised the other eyebrow. “Oh,” a smirk formed across his lips. “I would not look so amused if I were you.”

“What?” The girl tried to find a reflective surface in the room.

The raven-haired boy grinned. “You look _so fashionistic,_ ” he said, doing a remarkably good imitation of the Capitol accent himself.

Silyah’s hand went to her face. She wiped the corners of her mouth; there was nothing there. Maybe the boy was just teasing her, she thought… But then, she saw _it._ On the tip of her nose was a treacherous spot of whipped cream.

Artemis laughed at her expression. He had a nice laughter… Sad thing this might be one of the only times Silyah would get to hear it.

With the back of her hand, she removed the cream from her nose as blush rose on her cheeks. Though the look in her eyes was slightly mischievous, she was laughing too.

“Now we’re even, cream-nose.”

* * *

Effie was about to go in the kitchen when she heard laughter. She peeked inside the room and sighed. Artemis and Silyah looked so happy and strong when they were together. Suddenly, the woman dreaded the moment when they would have to split them apart to watch them die.

The lady cleared her throat. Two pairs of joyful eyes looked at her, losing only a slight bit of lightness while doing so. “You better finish up what you were doing and go to sleep if you want to be in shape tomorrow,” said Effie in a tone much softer than her usual one.

Artemis briefly wondered about Effie’s change of pitch, but he nevertheless agreed with her. “Effie is right. We better be at our best for the training, right Silyah?” Artemis got up from the chair, but in reality, he was worried about the training; he had no physical skills to speak of.

The two teenagers dropped their empty hot chocolate cups in the sink. “Did I miss anything?” Effie asked Artemis when he walked beside her.

“Not much, just something about hot chocolate and whipped cream,” the boy replied, his good mood seeming strange. “Good night, Ms. Trinket.”

Who would have thought that one could feel almost relaxed when they knew that their imminent death might be closing in?


	10. Chapter Nine - Brute or Brain

“Artemis?” A cheerful voice resonated in the boy’s room. “Wake up; we have a big, big, big day ahead of us!” Effie knocked on his door a few times before deciding to open it.

Inside of the room, she found a really sleepy kid amongst the pillows on his bed. The escort could not help but notice how much younger he looked without the stern expression he usually sported. Maybe, he would look like that after the Games… Or maybe he would survive…

Effie shook the strange thought from her head. “It’s 6:00 AM, time to wake up,” she nearly sang.

The boy moved slightly, slowly opening his mismatching eyes. “Oh… Good morning Effie,” he gave her a polite smile.

“Good morning!” she replied in a sigh. “I will leave you a few minutes to get ready and then you can head to the dining room to get your breakfast.” Artemis gave her a nod. Effie smiled and turned around before adding, “Your training outfit is the first one in the dresser,” she then left, heading for Silyah’s room.

Artemis walked to the dresser, finding the said training outfit. The top was a simple black sport T-shirt with blue accents on the sides and on the shoulders. The number three adorned the back and the sleeves of the garment; printed on the fabric in gray ink. The pants were dark cargo-like bottoms that looked rather comfortable to run around in.

After having taken a quick shower and throwing on his outfit, Artemis walked to the dining hall.

A yawning Silyah arrived at the table shortly after him. “Good morning,” she said in a raspy tired voice. She clipped her bangs away from her face, which, added to the blue on her training shirt, accentuated the color of her pale eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I could have slept for another century; the beds here are so cozy,” she mentioned, taking a cup of what appeared to be fruit salad from the large table.

“That would have been ideal, but frankly, Silyah, I don’t think they would ever let us,” said Artemis as she sat down beside him.

“Considering that we have a ‘big, big, big day,’ Effie would certainly not let us sleep a little longer,” laughed Silyah dryly before sighing.

Artemis gave a small chuckle, even though it was not exactly funny.

“Morning kids,” Beetee arrived in the room, cleaning up his glasses. He put them on and focused on the room. “Oh, there you are,” he took place in front of them. “Ready to begin your training?” The man did not even wait for an answer before diving right in, “I would like to know if you would prefer to be coached together or separately during your time at the Training Center.”

Silyah gave him a look that approximately said, _“Don’t even think about it, I won’t make any important decisions until I am fully awake,”_ and Artemis did not really know much about training procedures… Therefore, Beetee waited impatiently for an answer, which he eventually received at the end of the breakfast.

“I think that we could have a little bit of both…” said Silyah, making the statement sound like a question.

“Yes,” nodded Artemis. “You could train us together for basic lessons and then end them with separate coaching.”

Beetee seemed to approve of the approach. “Great! Then, let us begin,” he announced, adjusting his glasses over his nose. “Today, we will start by talking about the physical aspects of your trainings, since last time we only spoke about your personalities.”

Artemis nodded again, despite the fact that there was not too much to talk about as far as his _physical abilities_ were concerned.

Silyah gave a half-laugh, half-grunt, “Physical training… Well, at least there is no way I will be able to get any worst than now…”

“I believe we will have to take baby steps,” figured Beetee.

“More like mice steps…” said Artemis.

“Is it that bad?” wondered the mentor.

Silyah nodded furiously. “I don’t know about Artemis, but in my case, yes that bad,” she replied, barely exaggerating.

“I’m probably even worst than you, Silyah. I happen to have two left feet when physical activities are involved,” Artemis could not lie about that.

“You can’t be as bad as me. I probably have the physical abilities of a sloth.”

Silyah’s comment made Beetee suppress a chuckle.

“You’ve got yourself a bet,” sighed Artemis.

“So, bottom line is: we’ve got some work to do,” said Beetee, opening his notebook.

* * *

All morning, the mentor taught his tributes little tips and tricks on how to use their mental advantage in order to overcome physical difficulties. Positive thinking, he called it. He gave some examples such as: “When you are running, imagine that something you adore is waiting for you at the end of the road instead of thinking about the fact that you might be chased.”

Artemis had raised an eyebrow. He had never really thought of it that way before. He had wondered about what he could possibly think about… Holly, most likely… But she would not be waiting at the end of the run anyway; she was probably not even in Panem.

Silyah, on the other side, told Beetee that she was not much of a runner, but that if ever she had to escape a dire situation, she would run like the wind. An advantage of not being the bravest person on Earth, she guessed.

A tip that had struck both Silyah and Artemis had been about weapon handling. “When most people pick up a weapon, they think about how much damage they could possibly do with it,” the mentor began. “But truly, a weapon’s damage level is all about mathematics and calculations. It is about angles and weight, not about strength and bloodlust.”

“That might be true, but to be able to pick up the weapon must surely count for a lot,” Artemis had pointed out.

“That’s when the choice of your weapon comes in. You could do just as much damage with throwing knifes as you’d do with an axe. Speaking of… We will head for the common dining room in a few minutes. Your real training will begin shortly after dinner.”

It was about noon when the District 3 tributes and their mentor arrived in the cafeteria. Other people were already waiting in line with their trays in order to get something to eat.

Now that everyone was free of makeup and costumes, most faces were recognizable from the Reapings.

After having filled their own trays, the District 3 tributes went to sit at a table, just beside the girl from 6.

The girl with the brown curls looked up to them with dark blue eyes, about the same shade as Artemis’s right one. “You are Artemis and Silyah, from District 3, yes?”

“We are,” nodded Silyah, picking up her fork. “You’re Silver, right?”

“Yes,” replied the girl. By her looks, she was probably older than them both; 17 years old, most likely.

“Hey, _beautiful_!” A painfully sarcastic, strong-looking boy with light brown hair called out for Silver to hear. He took a sip of red liquid, wine, by all odds. “You’re going down,” he added with a sly smile and a wink.

Silver expression perfectly matched his. “Normally, I wouldn’t give an advice to a wannabe like yourself, Caskar, but I feel sorry for you… So, out in the arena, you better watch your back, ‘cause that’s where I’ll be. Waiting.”

There was a strong hate-filled tension between these two. Silyah could feel it in the air. With luck, Silver and Caskar would be the center of the show and the Gamemakers would not bother making the other tributes’s lives too difficult.

“Oh, you will be hiding behind my back? Too scared to face me, maybe?” laughed the arrogant boy before his mentor suggested him to sit down and eat instead of provoking the other tributes.

Silver’s blue eyes rested on Caskar for a few more seconds before they turned back to Artemis and Silyah. “Annoying,” she murmured. “He will never win, just because he thinks that he is the best. The winner will succeed because he or she will be clever, not brutal.”

“We’re on the same page,” agreed Silyah.

Silver smiled, “Yes, you’re from 3, you must be clever. That might be good for you. No-brainers like Caskar will spend their Games hunting like stupid animals…”

“Though, a stupid animal who knows his prey might be more dangerous than one who simply hunts,” thought Artemis out-loud.

Any further comment on the subject was found to be interrupted by the arrival of someone new at the table. “So, you like them ladies with lovely brown hair and blue eyes, don’t you?” the boy asked Artemis as he sat down. Silyah rolled her eyes. Why did Kalheb have to sit beside them?

Silver raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, aren’t you?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I just thought that Mr. Fowl could share,” Kalheb took Silyah’s hand, nearly ready to kiss it, but the girl jerked it back.

“Hands off, _Casanova_ ,” winked Silver. “I think that she is taken,” Silyah, Kalheb and Artemis all raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, really? My apology, Silyah,” he told the girl. “What about, Ms. Silver?”

The pale girl gave him a sad smile, “Sorry, out of your reach,” she unfolded her hands, clearly showing the ring around her left ring finger.

Kalheb exaggerated a devastated look, “How disappointing…”

“Hold up,” Silyah shook her head, just realizing what Silver had said about her. “What makes you think that I am taken?” she asked.

The other girl smirked in a way that vaguely resembled Artemis’s vampire smile. “Well, I thought that is was a couple thing to dress alike.”

Silyah thought back about it… Dressing alike? And then, she remembered the blue and gray tones from the Reaping, the leather jackets Artemis and she had both worn while getting off the train… “Oh…” said Silyah. “That thing…”

“There is nothing between us,” Artemis broke in. “Besides, we met on the day of the Reaping.”

“I guess we are only new-found friends with similar interests,” added Silyah, as if that might cut it.

Silver grinned, “Whatever you say,” she said, before getting up, having finished her meal. “See you in training.”

“See you later, Silv,” waved Kalheb in a sensual tone, even if he knew he did not stand a chance with her. Silver glared at the District 9 boy, rolling her eyes as she left the room. Kalheb’s gaze then went to Silyah. “So, I take it your single then,” he winked jokingly at her, though he decided not to push the subject too far. He was, after all, a gentleman.

“You are really not helping you case,” laughed Silyah.

“Oh, please, let me have a little bit of fun before I die,” replied Kalheb, eyeing the District 3 girl.

Silyah hid a frown. Kalheb seemed to know and acknowledge the fact that he was not going to make it… Or maybe that was just a strategy.

Artemis had stopped upon the same detail. Not to mention that the comment about having _fun_ did not exactly improve the first impression he had of the boy.

The tributes ate for the most part in silence, sometimes interrupted by casual comments from Kalheb. The boy who had been getting on Silyah’s nerve ever since the Reapings was not that bad after all. He was still a tad annoying, but not as much as the girl would have thought.

At one point, a feminine voice broke through the cafeteria’s chatter. “Hey, Kalheb? Why do you sit with _them_? I thought you were better than that,” called the feline-looking redheaded girl from District 1. She was seated beside Caskar, amongst a group of Career tributes.

Kalheb shrugged, not really liking the girl’s attitude, but rather enjoying her looks. “Don’t be jealous, _honey_ ,” he paused, letting the girl react to the nickname. “I’ve been meaning to come and have a chat with you, but I thought that you would prefer it to happen in a more private place.

The girl raised a well-shaped eyebrow and gave him a smile. “Join me for training?”

He blew her a light kiss. “It would be my pleasure, Geneva.”

“Your pleasure indeed,” said the District 1 girl, not even trying to show any modesty.

“Looks like I won’t be trying to steal your girl after all,” Kalheb told Artemis before getting up.

Artemis’s mouth nearly fell down to his chest. “She – She is not _my girl…_ ”

Kalheb laughed softly as he left with Geneva. “Whatever you say,” he replied, borrowing Silver’s words.

“Well, that was awkward,” whispered Silyah.

“Yes,” Artemis got up. Though his features did not display it, he felt a slight discomfort settling at the back of his mind.

If the Hunger Games’s violence was not to exterminate him, socialization with the other tributes certainly would.


	11. Chapter Ten - Glacial Tension

“Hello and welcome to the Training Center!” An athletic woman paced in front of the room, a clipboard in hand. She had begun her speech as soon as everyone had gotten inside of the gymnasium-like room. “My name is Atala, I am the supervisor of this section of the building, as well as the head trainer.” She paused, barely glancing towards the tributes. “The rules here are simple. You go around the room where different stations with different experts are installed. You are not to engage in any violent activity with any of the other tributes, keep that for the arena.” By her tone, it was easy to tell that she had been doing the same job and giving the same old speeches for a very long time.

Atala read a brief description of all the stations, as well as the name of the experts that would be present to coach the tributes. A few faces from the poorer Districts lit up when the names of Peeta Mellark – camouflage – and Katniss Everdeen – archery – were brought up.

“Katniss Everdeen?” Artemis whispered to Silyah.

She looked at him, a faint curiosity in her eyes. “Yes, Katniss Everdeen. Though, I have to agree, I never would have thought that one day I would get to meet the girl who was on fire,” she whispered back quickly. Glancing at him, she caught the puzzled look that briefly flashed across his features. Somehow, it looked as if the boy had no idea as to who Katniss was. Silyah shook her head. The Games were a mandatory thing to watch; of course he would know the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games…

Though Silyah would not bring it up, that one look towards Artemis made her feel like the boy was trying to hide something he wanted to keep private.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” she then said as Atala asked the tributes to begin their tour of the stations. She smiled encouragingly at him and headed for the “Edible and Usable Plants” section of the gymnasium.

Artemis looked around the room. _Where to go first?_ There were a few stations on weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, and survival techniques… The boy decided to start off his training with something useful, yet not too arduous; knot tying.

Artemis was halfway through a series of knots – which strangely always ended up looking like tie knots – when Quartz, from District 12, joined him.

“What is _that_?” The petite blond girl asked him, pointing to the piece of fabric in Artemis’s hands.

“A tie knot,” Artemis told her, though it was quite obvious.

“Isn’t a knot always supposed to tie something?” She wondered before realizing that the boy might have referred to an actual _tie_ ; the piece of clothing she might have seen her father wear once or twice.

Artemis felt the urge nearly rolled his eyes.

Quartz grabbed a strong-looking rope and began to knot it as the instructor did. The young girl was pretty good at it, as Artemis contemplated.

The District 12 girl was indeed mastering the art of knots when two new tributes joined them.

Kalheb and Geneva, their hands now locked in each other’s, each took a rope and tried to keep up with the instructor.

Artemis looked at their progress. The girl from 1 seemed to be rather skilled, her fingers delicately and intricately building a knot snare.

“You’re making magic, honey…” Kalheb whispered in her ear.

Geneva directed a cat-like sound towards him.

Suddenly, Artemis had the urge to change training stations. He got to his feet, leaving Geneva and Kalheb on their own.

 _So what to do next? Camouflage…_ Yes, the camouflage station sounded like a good option. It was far enough from Kalheb and Geneva, who were, oddly enough, starting to whisper really suggestive comments as they made their way through the catalogue of knots.

“I wonder if you can do anything else with those fingers…” Artemis heard Kalheb ask the District 1 girl.

Geneva gave her lips a lick, “You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?”

At this point, an uncomfortable and under-aged Quartz also decided to get away from the couple-like thing at the knotting station.

When Artemis got to the camouflage section of the room, Silyah was already there, casually talking with Peeta. The two seemed to get along rather swimingly.

Silyah then turned her gaze towards the raven-haired boy. “Hey, Artemis! Want to join us? I shall present you to Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games,” she said in a dramatic formal tone.

Artemis gave him a polite smile, “Nice to meet you… Though, the circumstances could be… Better…”

Peeta nodded. “I know…” He gave the District 3 tributes a sympathetic look. “Six years ago, I was standing at your place.”

“So, what kind of valuable insight might you offer us?” asked Artemis.

“Usually, I am not allowed to coach anyone but my own tributes, but I am here today because the head trainer really wanted me to initiate some people to camouflage,” he explained. “Actually, why don’t you both start by picking up some colors? I will give you a situation, you will camouflage yourself accordingly and I will give you some tips for the designs.”

Artemis nodded. “Sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Mellark.”

“Please, call me Peeta; I’m barely old enough to be out of the Reaping,” he replied with a shy smile.

“Very well.”

On that note, the two tributes installed themselves at the painting table, ready to be challenged.

Peeta’s first situation was quite simple; they had to paint their arm as if it was dirt.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. He could fake masterpieces with ease; dirt would not be a problem for him.

Silyah was done in less time required to spell the word “dirt.”

The raven-haired boy used a little more time, but the result was what he had aimed for.

Peeta had very few critiques about the two tribute’s works. These two were very skilled. The boy with the bread therefore decided to upgrade his challenge. With a devious grin, he said, “Now, using your weakest hand, make your arm look like water.”

Artemis smirked. He was just as good with both of his hands – even though he did favor his left one.

Silyah, however, was not as good as him using her left hand, but as far as Artemis could tell, she had a certain talent for color composition. It took more time than painting the dirt, but eventually, the girl raised her arm. It looked like part of a river with a slow current. She had even taken the liberty of drawing a small fish, which appeared to be swimming inside of her forearm every time she moved it.

It was now Artemis’s turn to show his work to Silyah and Peeta. His interpretation of water had a faster current than Silyah’s, more like rapids. His colors were spot on.

Peeta had watched them paint in amazement. “You two are extremely talented…” He showed them what he had drawn on his own arm. It looked like a mix of Artemis’s and Silyah’s creation. “Since I don’t think you require my help and that I could easily mistake your arms for pools of cold water, you could, maybe, try some freestyle,” the end of his sentence sounded like a question.

The two teenagers nodded and Peeta gave them each a new color palette. “Impress me,” he told them as he spun them back to back.

Artemis took a paintbrush between his slim fingers. Something impressive… It took a few seconds before the idea hit him.

The two of them used just about two minutes to finish off their artwork, and then they turned.

Artemis’s eyes grew bigger as he saw Silyah’s creation. How was it possible?

They had both carefully painted patches of detailed-looking frost on the back of their hands. Peeta choked back a laugh. He was indeed impressed. One could think that by touching their hands, he or she would freeze to death.

Then, Peeta looked at them – not at their artwork, but at the two tributes in front of him. There was something about Artemis and Silyah, which reminded him of Katniss and him, respectively…

Meanwhile, Artemis blinked. “How did you decide to take ice?” he asked his district partner.

“I don’t know… I was inspired by the colors and by how I feel like we are frozen in a fate that we cannot change… Besides, it’s been a long time since I have last seen ice in an arena.”

Artemis nodded, still amazed by how they had both chosen the same subject.

From one of the combat stations, Silver eyed the District 3 pair. In her blue eyes was a sheepish twinkle as she met Silyah’s. They almost seemed to say, _“Didn’t I tell you so?”_

Silyah stuck out her tongue rather childishly at Silver. “Oh, come on, if you want to annoy a real couple, check out Kalheb and Geneva,” she laughed, trying to stop the blood flow in her face from making her blush.

“But your denial is so much more entertaining,” the girl replied, giving Silyah a wink.

Silyah sighed and washed off the fake frost on her arm. “Thanks, Peeta,” she said. “I think that I will go try out some weapons,” needless to say, she was not exactly sure about the outcomes of that decision.

She was about to turn around when Peeta stopped her. “Before you go, I made cupcakes for the tributes, so feel free to take one,” he presented her a plate of beautifully frosted pastries.

Shrugging as she smiled, she grabbed one with a purple flower on it, “Thanks again!”

Artemis had not even seen which cake his fellow tribute had taken, but he somehow managed to pick on with the same design.

Silver walked up behind them, feeling like a cupcake break would be good. She picked one with a design similar to a cross and nudged Silyah, “Still denying it?”

There was no point in trying to hide her blush anymore. Thus, Silyah simply decided to keep her mouth shut and eat her cupcake. Giving Silver one last glance, Silyah randomly chose a weapon station: spears.

Silver grinned with satisfaction. She knew that there had to be _something_ , even if it wasn’t strong yet.

Finishing his own pastry, Artemis then decided to head over to the archery station.

Beside the silver weapons was a dark-haired girl with olive skin. Her eyes looked as gray as a stormy sky. Without a bow in hand, she could almost look harmless, but as soon as she picked up her weapon, her expression changed. The young woman shot a sequence of three arrows right in the bull’s eye before noticing Artemis.

“You are really accurate,” mentioned the raven-haired boy. “You are Katniss Everdeen, right?”

The girl put her bow over her shoulder. “Yes,” she was slightly taken aback. It was the first time in six years that someone hesitated while saying her name. It almost felt pleasant to be barely recognized. “Want to learn the basics?” She asked.

“Yes, please.”

Katniss handed him a silver bow. “Do you know how to hold it?”

“Yes, but that might be the only thing I know…”

“Okay…” She pronounced slowly, eyeing him as he took the bow. “That’s actually a good place to start,” she encouraged him.

“Not good enough to keep me alive, I am afraid,” said Artemis.

“Then, let me help you through this,” She got beside him, grabbing her own bow, starting by the very beginning: the basic techniques of archery.

Artemis could praise himself for being a fast learner, but registering information very rapidly could not improve his physical skills whatsoever.

Every arrow he launched oddly avoided anything that looked like a target. “I fear that sports are not my thing… I am more of a mental person,” he apologized for his clumsiness.

One of Beetee’s advice suddenly echoed back in his mind. Katniss was just about to send him to another station, where he could hopefully try to learn some more useful survival skills, when Artemis took her by surprise.

He had taken a new arrow and was now bringing back the bowstring, thinking about the movement as the tension required in order to provoke a translational motion in the arrow. Instead of letting go of the string right away and straight towards the target, he chose an angle, which would optimize his accuracy. When he did let go, the arrow flew out of Artemis’s bow, almost hitting Caskar’s nose before burying itself pretty close to the bull’s eye of a target.

Silyah, who had seen the scene, leaned on her spear and looked at Artemis with an intrigued expression. “Don’t tell me that this was an accident,” she mouthed, pointing at an angry Caskar. She smiled and threw her own weapon on a target shaped like a human. She would have probably reached the lungs, or perhaps even the heart if the dummy had been a real person.

Artemis let his bow sink, that his arrow had reached the bull’s eye had not been an accident, but that it went by Caskar’s head had been. “I mainly used some scientific figures to help me plan the course of the arrow. The variables such as the other people in the room were independent from my calculations,” he explained to Silyah.

“Archery and science?” wondered Katniss. “Nice shot, by the way… Though, you should probably keep the more lethal stuff for the arena.”

“Maybe your name is shining through your clumsiness, _Artemis_ ,” said Silyah who was slowly approaching the archery station, a spear still in her hand. Katniss raised an eyebrow.

“Very amusing, Silyah,” murmured Artemis. “I am named after an ancient Greek Goddess who happens to be the Goddess of Hunting and Archery,” he summarized.

“Oh… Well, keep it up,” she smiled, noticing how Artemis’s mood shifted as Silyah walked up to them. Katniss scanned the room, searching and finding Peeta’s eyes. They were both on the same page regarding the District 3 tributes.

Artemis sat his bow back on its stand now that he knew he was able to use it. He looked around the room for a new topic to explore.

A few stations further down the gymnasium, Geneva was throwing double-bladed axes, hitting the dead center of the dummies every single time.

From across the room, Caskar sent a hate-filled look towards Artemis and Silyah. “You see,” he began, “District 1 has some really fierce competitors,” he looked back at Geneva. “Sweet, right?” He winked at them in a way that would have made a troll shiver.

Artemis gazed right back at Caskar, giving him a cold stare that could have made two trolls shiver, and definitely a human teen.

“Some? I can only see one of them actually trying to practice,” Silver’s voice came from another station. No one had the power to irritate her like Caskar. “So, you’re going to hide behind her the entire Games?”

Caskar mumbled something that sounded like a great load of swearing and mentally reviewed his list of people to kill. Right on top of it – occupying the first place – was Silver Canemon, closely followed by Artemis Fowl and his “girlfriend.”

Silver smirked. Infuriating Caskar was just too easy.

Meanwhile, Artemis sighed. Caskar was certainly not a person one could consider as good-natured. There was something in his eyes… Almost the same kind of hatred that resided in those of a certain pixie… Maybe Caskar would be the one creeping behind Artemis once the Games would begin…

Silyah had clenched her fist around her spear. The cold vibes emanating from the Training Room felt very odd to her and although she was not one to support violence, the girl could not help but to feed from her peculiar dislike for Caskar as she kept on throwing spears at the humanoid targets’ heads.

By the fiery look in Silyah’s eyes, Artemis could easily guess that she was imagining Caskar as the target.

Appearing out of the plants section, a dark-skinned boy passed behind Artemis. By his looks, one could recognize him a Zinque Chart from District 11. Even though he seemed deadly with a huge hammer in his hand, when he spoke, his voice was sincere and almost friendly. “I would not mess with Caskar if I wanted to stay alive for more than a day…” he said.

“He’d have to get through the Cornucopia first,” laughed Silver.

Zinque felt like laughing too, but Caskar’s eyes burned on his back. Instead, he bit his tongue and remained quiet.

Silver turned to Caskar, waving at him with a smile on her lips.

He replied to her grin with one that looked so sickeningly sweet and genuine, it almost hurt to see his face being twisted like that.

“Did you eat something sour, Caskar?” The District 6 girl called out to him.

“No, it’s just that I turned around and saw your face,” he rubbed his eyes, as if blinded.

“You clearly haven’t seen your own reflection, then.”

From his corner of the room, Peeta’s morale was beginning to fade. He didn’t like how the situation was turning out. It was bad enough that the Capitol was to send these kids in an arena, let alone the fact that they would willingly slaughter each other at that rate.

Caskar reminded him of Cato and his superior attitude, while Silver was just searching for trouble. With an even stronger voice than he thought he owned, he shouted, “Enough!” Then, in a much softer voice, he added, “Save your efforts for the arena.”

Katniss eyed him, feeling the similarities between this group and theirs.

Peeta was right, had thought Silver. She would kick Caskar’s Career backside later and she would enjoy it.

Luckily, just after the mandatory obstacle course, the mentors arrived in the tense Training Room, calling their tributes for supper.


	12. Chapter Eleven - Great Minds Think Alike

As soon as she got out of the crystal elevator, Silyah crashed on the couch of the District 3 apartment’s living room. Needless to say, training had been extremely exhausting.

The girl made a strange sound, halfway between an enraged sigh and a yawn. She then kicked her training boots in one corner of the room in order to let her toes breathe.

“Silyah!” exclaimed Artemis. “Do you mind looking out before tossing your boots at me?”

Silyah raised her head, which had been hanging upside down from the couch. “Sorry, Artemis…” She turned her whole body back so that her feet would actually be closer to the ground than to the ceiling. “I didn’t know you were there…”

“Clearly,” murmured Artemis.

“That last obstacle course the trainers had us do completely drained me,” she commented, rubbing her neck. She stretched for a long moment and sighed.

“Likewise… I am feeling my muscles aching in places I did not even know I had muscles…”

Silyah tried hard to smile, but her face would not cooperate. “The joys of being brains…” she whispered.

“Make some space for me, will you?”

She sat up, tucking her legs under herself, and then patted the cushion beside her.

“Thank you,” Artemis sat slowly, afraid that the pain in his legs would double if he sat down too fast. “This is why I keep away from physical activities…”

“Normally, I would say ‘I feel your pain,’ but I think that my own pain is more enough,” she laughed, tired out of her mind.

“For now, yes,” nodded Artemis, a shadow of a smile threatening to form on his lips.

One of the Avoxes walked in the living room to look up on the two tributes’ needs. Silyah almost felt bad for asking, but she really felt like she could use a cup of warm tea and therefore ordered one from the quiet servant.

The Avox brought her a small teapot. He showed four of his fingers, pointed to Artemis and then showed off two fingers. _“For you too,”_ he probably meant.

“Oh,” Artemis gave the man a polite smile. “Thank you…” He had no idea as to what wrongdoing the Avox might have done, but he truly felt sorry for his captivity.

Silyah thanked the man dressed in white, who responded by bowing is head as if to say, “No need to be sorry, or to thank me.” The Avox then disappeared in the kitchen, as quiet as ever.

Silyah poured two cups of tea as Artemis looked at the spot that had previously been occupied by the slave of the Capitol. He sighed, taking one of the cups. Had Holly seen this, she would have kicked the rear end of whomever had been responsible for that injustice.

Closing her eyes, Silyah slowly sipped her tea. “Can you actually believe that we survived our first day of training?” she said, a small spark of humor appearing in her tired eyes as she opened them.

“Nothing is official yet. Perhaps tomorrow you will come into my room to discover that I will have died from stress during the night,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Don’t die on me overnight...” she said with a hint of a smile while shaking her head. “I need you to help me remain mentally stable.”

Artemis gave her a vague smile, “I don’t think I would be able to die in those beds, anyway.”

“And I’m probably sure that the Gamemakers would not allow you to die while you are not in the arena.”

“For some reason, I believe that this statement is accurate.”

Silyah nodded. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she smiled at him and got up lazily from the couch. She would take a long, warm shower and then drift off to sleep.

* * *

The rest of the training days were about the same as the first one. The tributes would get up in the morning, head to their coaching sessions with their mentors and escorts and finally, they would go to the gymnasium to work on their skills.

Somewhere in the middle of the second day, people began to whisper about some kind of tribute gathering secretly organized by Peeta and Katniss. The rumors were all confirmed when the two victors from District 12 gave everyone a small role to play in the organization of the event, which would occur the night just before the interviews with Caesar Flickerman.

Most of the tributes were starting to be calmer and in a slightly more festive mood as the day of the gathering approached. The mentors, however, were starting to get nervous for their tributes and tried to make the most out of the time spent with them.

* * *

Effie clapped her hands, delighted to see that Silyah was absolutely amazing when it came to etiquette, attitude and “walking with high heels” lessons.

“My work is done!” she declared. She had coached the young lady for about twenty minutes everyday, which had been more than enough. “Do you want to go see Beetee right away for your last private session with him?” she asked the girl. Silyah did not object. She liked her sessions with Beetee; they almost made her feel confident and hopeful.

Therefore, Silyah made her way to the study-like room Beetee had claimed as his office. The door was open when she arrived, but Beetee had not appeared to notice the girl yet. He was on the phone… That could only mean one thing: sponsorship deals were being made. The District 3 victor hung up the phone and raised his glasses over his eyes. “You’re here early,” he said, looking at his watch.

“Yes, Effie finally freed me from her nine inch high heels,” she smiled.

The mentor grinned back at her, wondering what was worst; the heels or the Games. He shook the silly thought from his head and took his notebook, beginning Silyah’s daily training session.

He talked about strategies, probabilities, statistics and ways to survive the ruthless arena. Silyah drank in every word he spoke, mentally recording them, engraving them in her brain.

The mentor was about to let Silyah go, when he remembered something he had intended to tell her previously. “Silyah?” the young girl turned around. “I would suggest you don’t get too friendly with Artemis… I have noticed how you two act together and I think that…” He stopped in mid-sentence, trying to find a way to express the concept, even though he did not need to do so. Silyah understood perfectly. She would not be able to handle the possibility of his death if they got too close.

 _Well, it’s almost too late to call this an advice…_ She thought as she nodded at Beetee before leaving his office.

* * *

“District 3, Silyah Natho,” called a voice coming from the speaker in the room in which the tributes waited for their private sessions with the Gamemakers. The girl took a deep breath, waved encouragingly at Artemis and left, following the same path the tributes from 1 and 2 had taken moments ago. As she walked away, Artemis briefly wondered what she had in store for the Gamemakers…

His gaze then went to the waiting room, sweeping the faces of the other teenagers; some of them seemed nervous while others appeared overly confident, completely confused, or all three at once.

About fifteen to twenty minutes quietly went by as Silyah was being evaluated and then, the same voice that had called the others pronounced Artemis’s name.

The boy stood, controlling his breathing, feeling his heart beat get faster with each step he took.

Once the big doors of the gymnasium closed behind him, Artemis could not help but notice that the Training Room felt really empty without anyone throwing weapons everywhere… Although the thought of being alone in a room full of people planning your death felt even stranger.

The Gamemakers were far from being bored yet; Artemis was only the sixth tribute to be evaluated, which meant that all eyes were on him. However, each of the Gamemakers seemed to have a distraction close at hand, just in case the show would cease to be good. For most of them, the distractions in question were glasses of wine and copious plates of food.

On the other hand, one Gamemaker in particular was one hundred percent attentive to the raven-haired boy. Her chocolate brown eyes followed him as he walked through the room.

Artemis ignored the stare, which seemed to be burning into him. _She_ was certainly not going to make him lose one ounce of his concentration.

Feeling the boy’s slight discomfort, the Gamemaker smirked and popped a truffle in her mouth. _Artemis Fowl, we meet again…_ She thought, trying to stop a hysterical laughter from escaping her throat.

Artemis’s eyes searched the room, noticing a weak shimmer separating the Gamemakers from the tributes. Artemis frowned… A force field, perhaps… Suddenly, a plan sparked up in his mind.

Disabling the force field would be a neat way to show that Artemis could outwit his enemies by attacking their main defenses… _How suitable_ , the boy thought. He browsed through the room for the right materials to perform the task. Apart from the weapons, there was not much to work with…

Then, Artemis remembered the obstacle course at the back of the gymnasium. Surely, there were some mechanical and electronic components in there…

With a careful manipulation involving the chain of a hiking harness, the power source of the obstacle course and an arrow shot at the right place – just inside the room’s electrical panel, the boy executed his plan.

The Gamemakers briefly wondered what the boy would show them. He had been rummaging through the room for good ten minutes… They simply looked at him go and waited for something to happen.

Artemis smirked. The masters of the Games had not even noticed that their force field had went off. He took a small berry from a tray that was in the “Edible and Usable Plants” station and threw it towards them.

The brown-eyed, dark-haired Gamemaker caught it with an inhuman accuracy. Their eyes then met; chocolate brown and mismatching blue and hazel.

Nonchalantly, she tossed the plant right back at him. “I prefer my truffles to these… Things,” she said.

Artemis stepped away. He was not going to catch the berry, so he would at least make it look as if he had planned it. He grinned at the woman.

While this silent conversation took place, the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch, was furiously trying to contact those who could reactivate the force field. Why and how could tributes come up with these crazy ideas? _Very clever, but quite enraging…_ he thought. Now that he had an idea about Artemis’s capabilities, he dismissed him, eager to go on with the Private Sessions.

Artemis slowly left the room, the sound of the dark-haired woman’s laughter ringing in his ears…

* * *

The District 3 team was seated in their living room shortly after the Private Sessions. Patiently, they waited for the results…

As a reward for their training being over, Silyah went to the kitchen and fetched two cups of hot chocolate. “Look at this...” she said as she got back. She handed a cup to Artemis and sat beside him. “Our dear Geneva, self-proclaimed _queen of the warriors_ only scored a seven.”

Effie sighed, not because of Silyah’s comment, but because of the hot chocolate. _Hopefully, this time would not be as messy as the two previous ones,_ she thought with a twinkle in her eye.

Artemis clutched his cup and nodded. “It can be a tactic… But her attitude might be the thing that brought her down.”

“True… From what we have seen in training, if she gets her hands on an axe, we better run away from her,” Silyah would never take such risks as confronting a Career on her own.

“Running won’t help,” Artemis shook his head. “She would take us down even more easily with our backs turned around.”

Silyah rolled her eyes, both due to Artemis’s statement and to the picture of Caskar that had appeared on the television screen. Of course, the boy had scored a ten.

“Well, that will certainly not bring his ego down,” murmured Artemis.

“What could bring his ego down, anyway?” sighed Silyah, her usual smile brightening up her face.

“Good point,” admitted Artemis.

The District 2 tributes’ scores then appeared on the screen. The girl, Crelin Spooks, had scored an eight while the boy, Elon Jokter, had obtained a seven.

“We’re the next ones!” cheered Effie, bouncing in her seat. Silyah’s official tribute picture came into view on the television; beside it flashed a seven.

“Well done,” said Artemis. “What did you do?”

“Let’s just say that I got crafty…” Something flashed in her eyes and she smirked in a way that reminded Artemis of his own vampire-like smile. Artemis raised an eyebrow.

“Your turn, mustache boy,” she whispered to him. Ilranor, who had heard the strange comment, turned to Artemis, wondering what mustache Silyah might have been referring to.

The boy gave his district partner a look. “When are you going to get tired of that?” he asked.

“Probably when the Games will be over…” She shook a morbid thought from her head as a number appeared beside Artemis’s picture. Seven.

“Good job!” said Silyah and squealed Effie.

Beetee scribbled down his tributes’ scores in his notepad. “Very good kids! So, now tell me, what kind of scheme did you come up with to avoid physical activities?” He laughed.

Artemis gave his mentor a smile, but not exactly the one that would make someone feel better. “I turned the Gamemaker’s force field off,” he said with a shrug.

Silyah’s jaw almost touched the floor when she turned to Artemis. “You have to be kidding! You used the electrical panel right?”

Artemis nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”

“You won’t believe this,” she paused for a moment before adding, “I think that we did the same thing.”

“What did you do with the electrical panel exactly?” Effie asked, worried about any possible damage they might have done to the Training Center.

“I played around with a spear and changed the settings of the force field. I actually disabled parts of the field before it vanished and the holes in it were shaped like an “S” – which truly was caused by the waves of the force field – but I guess the Gamemakers thought I was trying to spell my name or something…” replied Silyah.

Artemis also retold his own session, much to Beetee’s enjoyment.

The mentor clapped for them. “Now you’re talking! What were the odds of you two playing around the Gamemaker’s defenses?” Beetee was one happy coach at the moment. “You’re plans were both harmless and clever. Really good!”

Artemis smiled. Beetee reminded him more and more of Foaly.

Each District had their turn on screen, the highlights of the Private Sessions being Harbor Pearl, from 4 and Scpencer Ross from 12 with scores of ten, Novia Imous, from 5 and Thea Garber from 8, who had obtained nines, and Kalheb Frotz, District 9 closely followed by Zinque Chart from District 11 with the incredibly high scores of eleven.

According to Silyah, the most surprising result had been Silver’s. “A six?” she said, in disbelief. Maybe the girl’s fearless attitude had gotten her on the Gamemaker’s bad side…

“It seems to me that it could be a strategy,” pointed Artemis out.

“I hope so for her…”

“You’re worried? In under three days, she might be hunting you down.”

“I _know_ that the first person she will hunt down will be Caskar. If she finds him, she could easily rid everyone in the arena of him,” explained Silyah.

“True,” agreed Artemis.

Silyah’s stylist, Xarone, suddenly got up from his seat. He discretely tapped on the watch he wore on his upper arm, like a bracelet.

This was the signal.

Every stylist had been made aware of the gathering and they had all agreed to help their tributes prepare for it.

“We must be on our way,” said Ilranor to the escort and the mentor of the District 3 team.

Each of them taking their assigned tributes to their respective rooms, the designers left, leaving no explanation behind.


	13. Chapter Twelve - Making Sparks

After an hour or two of polishing and dressing up, the District 3 tributes got out of their rooms.

Artemis had been put into a dark purple dress shirt with pants similar to the ones he had worn upon arriving in the Capitol. His tie was of an even darker shade of purple and the decorative stitch lines on it slightly glowed.

Silyah sighed as she caught a glimpse of him. “Silver is going to destroy us.”

The girl glanced down at her own outfit, a dress the same shade as Artemis’s shirt. She wore lace leggings and a bolero, which bore the same hues as the boy’s pants, and both the ribbon above her waist and the sequins on the top part of her dress glowed like his tie.

The two stylists contemplated their second creations. “Lovely!” said Xarone.

“You two are now ready to go,” nodded Ilranor, flashing a smile that seemed to be fluorescent white.

Artemis and Silyah walked together to the crystal elevator, each of them anticipating what the evening would be like.

“I’m not exactly a party person, obviously, but I think that this is going to be interesting,” said the girl as she stepped in the elevator. Caskar, Geneva, Elon and Crelin, who lived on the floors under the District 3 quarters, were already inside of it.

“Definitely interesting,” Artemis whispered in her ear.

Crelin pressed on the button that would lead them to the roof of the building. “Let’s hope we don’t have to stop on another floor. It’s getting crowded in here,” said the girl from 2, adding a second level of awkwardness to the situation.

“Yes, indeed…” replied Silyah, who stared at Caskar, who was staring intensely at Artemis.

The Irish boy kept his eyes away from the District 1 tribute. Staring was not his thing; it felt highly uncomfortable... But perhaps he would give Caskar a vampire smirk right before the beginning of the Games, just to see how the tall boy would take it.

After a few seconds of what had felt like hours because of the Careers, the group arrived on the roof of the Training Center.

The doors opened, allowing the tributes to catch their very first glimpse of the place. The rooftop normally looked quite beautiful, with a lush garden in one corner and a view over the entire Capitol all around it. However, tonight, it was purely spectacular. Small color-changing light bulbs had been hung from the trees and some bright torches with colorful dancing flames had been lit in every shadowy corner of the roof.

Katniss and Peeta were seated side by side near the edge of the roof, casually talking. They were both wearing fire, once again, as a reminder of their history.

Katniss had a knee-length, silky red dress completed with flickering flames escaping the bottom hem of her skirt. Peeta, on the other hand, had them coming out of the breast pocket of his black, long-sleeved shirt.

Noticing the new arrivals, the double victors from District 12 got up to greet the tributes and collect their contributions to the gathering.

Silyah handed Katniss a small black and silver square; a music chip Artemis and she had made in their free time. They had filled it with music from every Districts of Panem.

Just as Peeta and Katniss thanked them and activated the chip, another tribute-filled elevator arrived, this one carrying the teenagers from Districts 4 to 6.

“Well, well…” Silver Canemon’s voice called from behind the group. “Matching again, uh?” she gave Silyah a grin, walking closer to her. “Just admit it, I’ll understand; he is not bad looking.”

“Silver,” began Silyah, on the verge of being annoyed. Since she could not find anything to reply with, she simply decided to play along. “Believe what you want to believe in, I give up on that case,” she said with a good-humored sigh.

“Oh, I will,” nodded the girl. “The question is: when are you going to believe in what is right in front of you?” This was not just a figure of speech; Artemis was right in front of her.

The boy in question cleared his throat, “It is not very polite to speak behind one’s back,” he told Silver.

“Oh, but feel free to join the conversation,” smirked the girl from District 6. “Would you have anything to confess to Silyah, or you’d prefer to wait for the interviews like Mr. Mellark?”

“I have no desire to confess anything to anyone, and that includes you, Ms. Canemon,” replied Artemis slightly taken aback.

“Little cold at heart, I presume,” Silver raised an eyebrow at Silyah, who simply shrugged.

“He’s got to be cold,” said Peeta, who had overheard the conversation. “You are, after all, speaking to the _ice_ _prince_ , Silver.” It still amazed him that the two tributes from 3 had intricately painted frost on their arms on their first day of training.

“Ice Prince,” whispered Silyah. “Somehow, I think it suits you,” she said with a small nudge and a laugh as the tributes from 7 to 12 arrived.

Now that everyone was present, the two victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games invited the teenagers to sit on the ground, picnic-style before asking for a minute of attention.

“Dear tributes,” Peeta began, not exactly enjoying the fact that he had to use that specific word to describe the young men and women in front of him. “I know what you are all wondering; why are we here? Am I right?” There was a shy collective chuckle amongst the teenagers. Of course, that was exactly what they all had in mind. “Well, the reason is really simple… Ever since we became trainers, Katniss and I took the initiative of organizing what we baptized ‘the Gathering,’ which is an event kept secret from the rest of the world.”

Katniss then took the speech. “Tonight, no cameras follow you, no threats are looming over your heads; the only thing here are young people yearning for one moment of peace.” The flames on the young woman’s dress glistened in the darkening night, making her iconic mockingjay pin gleam as if it was made of liquid gold.

“Tonight will be the night when you will all get an opportunity to be yourselves,” concluded Peeta, avoiding the addition of the words everyone expected at the end of his sentence; _before you die._ “So, the only thing we now request from you is that you remain true to yourselves and enjoy the moment. Oh, and please, show a little civility towards the others.”

On those words, the victors from 12 stepped away from each other, revealing and presenting an enormous table covered in foods from every district of Panem. There was nothing too fancy – a major contrast with the Capitol’s cuisine – but the familiar smells of the food from their homes made the tributes’ mouths water.

Artemis’s mismatching eyes traveled along the table. Though the food looked delicious, there was nothing that truly gave him a sense of home. It made him realize once again that he never belonged in District 3, or Panem for that matter.

“What do you want to start with?” Silyah asked the boy.

He looked over all the dishes, shaking his mind away from Ireland.

“What about we get a bit of everything?” she suggested as she got up, seeing that no answer was to be expected from Artemis. People were already starting to gather around the table, making it hard to see most of the plates. Silyah lightly shook her head. “Looks like our competitors are already in survival mode,” she laughed.

Artemis nodded. “Yes, it seems so… Even if it is somewhat foolish… If they eat too much over a given period of time, their stomachs will expand and they will feel starvation much faster in the arena,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

“One more advantage for the weakest; most people from District 9 and down are actually starving most of the time, so I think they should have the right to enjoy a good meal… For the Careers, however, it’s a completely different game,” she said, adding the last part much more quietly than the first one.

“I guess that you are correct on that one,” nodded Artemis as they got closer to the table, entering the queue that was already beginning to form in front of the buffet.

“Are you going to try the spare ribs from our district?” Both Artemis and Silyah turned around at the same time. A boy with blond hair had walked up behind them. “District 10, that is,” he smiled genuinely.

“I know I will,” mentioned a blue-eyed, redheaded girl beside him. The District 3 tributes could recognize the pair as Jethro and Trinicia. “See,” added the girl. “Even if I live in 10, my family never had enough money to get the good pieces of meat.”

“I tasted real spare ribs before, but only once…” said Jethro. Ever since his Reaping, the boy had felt so lonely, even a simple act of socialization with future competitors was better than nothing.

The queue moved forward and the tributes began to fill their plates.

“My, my… Even without cameras, you two keep on looking all couple-ish,” said Silver from behind the District 10 pair, a huge and devious grin appearing on her face. Apparently, she was trying to convince Jethro and Trinicia to play along.

“Would you please explain what is couple-like in talking about spare ribs?” wondered Silyah staring back at the brown-haired girl.

Trinicia chuckled as she saw the look on the District 3 teens’ faces.

“Oh, you know, it just is,” Silver shrugged, still grinning.

“I think that it’s the matching of your lights,” said Jethro with a slight smirk. “You are sparkling when you are together,” he joked.

For a moment, they all glanced down on Artemis and Silyah’s glowing outfits, which were pulsating purple light in synchronization. The slight urge to curse their stylists vaguely crossed the District 3 tributes’ minds, but they had to admit, they had done a pretty good job as far as making them stand out from the others.

“Let’s just get some food,” Trinicia gently pushed the group forward.

The line slowly advanced, allowing everybody to get a sample of the districts’ specialties before being sent back to their places to enjoy their meal.

Once the supper over, the tributes were truly beginning to feel more relaxed and most of all, willing to pretend that no dangers were upon their heads.

As a tray of pastries was being passed around amongst everyone, a delicate melody began to be heard and the eyes of the young District 12 tribute, Quartz, lit up. “Katniss, please, can you sing that song for us? Please?” begged the blond-haired girl.

“I don’t know if –” Katniss seemed unsure, but the crowd had interrupted her, all requesting the same thing as Quartz.

“Fine then,” Katniss shook her head despite her smile and then, she closed her eyes, concentrating on the rhythm of the song. “I remember, my mother used to despise it when Prim and I sang this one…” she said before it began, “but we didn’t really understand its meaning and loved it so much that we sang it with my father…” She took a deep breath and in harmony with the recorded signer, the first lyrics escaped her lips.

“ _Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man, they say murdered three_

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._ ”

For the most part, the tributes felt as if they were gathered around a warming campfire by a fresh summer night and Katniss herself was the flame. The only thing providing an exception to that feeling was the gloomy context of the song sang by the Girl who was on Fire…

“ _Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._ ”

All eyes were on Katniss while hers were still closed, still letting herself sink into the song.

“ _Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where I told you to run so we’d both be free._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”_

There was a long moment of silence during which barely anyone even dared to blink, with the exception of Caskar, of course, who simply sneered, wondering what the point of a tribute gathering was.

Then, Quartz started to clap, “Thank you Katniss!”

The female victor of the 74th Hunger Games could not help but to smile back at the little blond girl who reminded her of Primrose at her first Reaping.

Other clapping hands eventually joined the cheering, all of their owners being fascinated by the dark song which had been enhanced by Katniss’ voice.

Just as they had done the first time he had heard Katniss sing, Peeta’s eyes would not leave her features. It was only when an upbeat song from a Capitol artist began to play that the mysteriously soothing mood vanished. The song, which had been inspired by the technology of District 3 and Capitolesque double entendres, carried some of the more outgoing tributes to the makeshift dance floor beside the garden. Most of them were awkwardly trying to tempt the shy ones into joining them which allowed the Avoxes to clean up the dishes.

* * *

“I’ll go get some water,” Silyah told Artemis over the music, which had been playing for a little while now. “Do you want anything?”

The boy shook his head. “Not for now, thank you. I think that I will try to hide somewhere before someone even considers asking me to dance,” he replied with a light smirk.

“That’s an idea I’ll keep in mind,” laughed Silyah as she walked to the refreshments’ table, grabbing herself a bottle of water before heading to the edge of the roof, taking in one of the most amazing views she ever had the chance to behold.

“Not dancing with your Ice Prince?” called Silver slowly walking towards her. The District 6 girl was followed by the petite pixie-like tribute from 5, Novia.

Silyah’s eyes moved to the pair. “Even if he was ‘my Ice Prince,’ as you’d put it, do Artemis and I look like dancers to you?” she asked not even ashamed to admit that she was a pretty boring person when it came to parties. She moved her gaze back to the Capitol skyline. “Did you notice that our food was already cut when they served it?” she asked Silver in a matter-of-factly tone in order to bring the subject elsewhere. “And that no object on this roof has sharp edges? That there is a force field around the building to prevent suicides or escapes? And most importantly, that every heavy thing is screwed or glued in place?” Silver gave the roof a look, Silyah indeed seemed to be right. “Everything here, from the decorations to the construction of the place was carefully planned for us not to kill one another…” she added thoughtfully.

“You’re quite the clever girl,” mumbled Silver as she stepped beside Silyah.

“I may be clever, but I am uncoordinated and I probably have the strength of a child,” Silyah eyed both Silver and Novia to see if they were getting what she was trying to say, which they did.

“I am quite savvy about basic survival skills and energy preservation,” whispered Novia.

“Allies?” suggested Silyah.

“Allies,” repeated Silver.

Novia simply smiled, raising her paper glass at shoulder-level. “To life,” she suggested as she and the two other girls clinked their respective drinks. “What about him?” she then asked, pointing her chin towards Artemis who was desperately trying to avoid the crowd despite his glowing clothes.

A strange feeling climbed up in Silyah’s throat. “I don’t know about him,” she said softly. _But one thing is certain; I don’t want to be near him if he dies…_ she thought as she got lost in her own mind…

The Hunger Games… What would happen if the Hunger Games ceased to exist? Just like that… As if as soon as the tributes had set a foot on the roof, the games could have forever vanished from their lives…

“Silyah?” seemingly distant, Novia’s voice pierced through the clouds of the girl’s mind. “You’re coming?” asked the dark-haired girl with a devious grin.

“Why give her a choice?” said Silver, grabbing Silyah’s wrist, dragging her to the center of the rooftop where the dancers were.

“No, no, no!” protested the District 3 girl, shaking her head. “I don’t dance!”

“Oh, yes you will,” replied the 17 year-old from 6, twirling both Silyah and Novia around.

“No, I swear, I’m dangerous,” Silyah laughed nervously, seeing Artemis from the corner of her eyes. The boy was staring back at her with a mischievous smirk. Was he laughing at her?

“Novia, go get him,” requested Silver, who was enjoying herself a little too much at the others’ expenses.

Somehow, the only syllable that could escape Silyah’s mouth was _no_ , but it was too late for anything. Novia had already ran towards an uncooperative Artemis, forcing him on the dance floor, pushing him towards Silyah while Silver was pulling her towards him.

“Let go of me!” said Artemis as if he just had been abducted, but Novia did not seem to listen to him… Not until the two glowing teens were standing eyes in eyes, mere inches apart from each other, that is.

“Take my hand,” mouthed Silyah as Silver attempted to make her move. Artemis sent her a look. “Trust me,” she added with a devious smile. Silver and Novia slightly stepped away now that their work was done and it was at this precise moment that Silyah was able to go on with her plan. “Now run for it!” she said over the music, yanking Artemis away from the crowd, laughing at the fact that she had gotten her way after all.

“All right, you escaped this time,” Silver laughed along before any amusement left her eyes and a mouthed “uh-oh” shaped her lips.

The District 3 tributes did not have the time to wonder why her expression had changed so quickly. They seemed to have bumped into a wall of some sort. Letting go of Silyah’s hand, Artemis took a step back and raised his eyes. It had been no wall; it was Caskar and he was wearing quite the irritated look on his face. Red liquid was staining his shirt and his fist was tightly clenched around an empty glass. He raised his free hand in the air, taking a swing… But just as his fist was about to crash in Artemis’s stomach, the music began to fade and an elevator sound was heard, making everyone stop and stare.

Slowly, the doors opened and two peacekeepers emerged from the elevator, followed by a tall man dressed in the traditional Gamemaker outfit.

Caskar straightened his back, a shadow of anxiety settling in his throat.

The peacekeepers moved to the man’s side, revealing his identity as Plutarch Heavensbee.

“Dear tributes,” began the man. “The time has come for you to go back to your rooms. Thank you for participating in the 80th Hunger Games’ Gathering.” Somehow, even though the announcement had interrupted Caskar’s punch, it had also felt like a bucket of cold water… “We hope you enjoyed your evening,” he said, observing Katniss and Peeta before calling Districts 1 to 3 to the elevator.

 _Marvelous,_ thought Artemis as he walked towards the exit of the roof, Caskar’s eyes burning down his back. The raven-haired boy gave the roof one last look and the doors of the elevator closed behind the group.

Now that there were no more unwanted witnesses around, Caskar turned to Artemis. “Nothing’s going to save you now,” smirked the District 1 boy when he turned to the raven-haired teen, his fist back in the air.

“Don’t you dare!” began Silyah who tried to stop Caskar before being tossed away in the corner of the glass elevator. There was no way the tall boy was going to listen to her.

Caskar grabbed Artemis’s collar, pinning him to the wall in front of him. He then got hold of his tie and began to pull the knot tighter, unaware that he was crushing the circuitry sewn into the piece of clothing.

Deep down, Artemis hoped for something to happen; something other than receiving a fist on the temple, that is.

Suddenly, a vivid white spark lit the glass elevator, sending Caskar shrieking at the back of the enclosed space. “Foul!” he shouted, clutching his electrocuted hand. Just as he was about to launch an attack towards Artemis for a second time, the doors of the elevator slid open. With Geneva and Elon restraining Caskar, the District 3 tributes swiftly escaped.

“Did he hurt you?” asked Silyah, her worry showing through her voice as Artemis tried to loosen his tie.

Artemis shook his head. “I think that he was more shocked than I was in the end,” he admitted, mentally slapping himself for using such a play on words.

* * *

For the fifth time in her life, Katniss watched the last two tributes – those from her own District – leave the safe place they had made of the Gathering. She felt like such a traitor; like the blackmailed puppet for the Capitol that she was.

“Another successful year, I hope,” said Plutarch, waiting for the elevator to come back up. “I would need your full report on the events of the night, as well as your analysis of the tribute’s personalities for tomorrow morning,” he whispered to make sure that Peeta, who was cleaning up the buffet table, would not hear.

Katniss followed Plutarch’s gaze, stopping when it reached the blond man. “I still can’t believe you’re still forcing us to have this ridiculous Gathering,” she spat. “When Peeta came up with the idea, it was with good intentions only and you somehow managed to turn it into a secret test without even telling him.”

“Katniss… I have no say in what is to be done. My orders come from President Snow… But, I would like to remind you, Ms. Everdeen that the Capitol was rather generous with you and your _fiancé_ by allowing you to get out of the arena and to postpone your wedding with Mr. Mellark to a date of your choosing in exchange for your training contracts… The least they now expect you to do is to pay back for those favors…”


	14. Chapter Thirteen - Breaking the Ice

_The soul-shattering sound of a cannon rang in Silyah’s ears. Two tributes were now remaining. She ran across the iced ground, nearly slipping over her her own two feet. She hoped that the person who had just died had been the right one…_

_Too soon for her own taste, she began to see some crimson splatters tinting the previously immaculate snow. Her heart was pounding in her ears, along with couplets of a song she had once heard._

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.

_She saw the hovercraft lift a body in the air. Her throat tightened. It was not the right one…_

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run so we’d both be free.

_“Silyah?” A male voice came from behind some frost-covered trees, where a raven-haired boy peeked out of the forest. “Silyah,” he hurried his pace until he reached her. There was a cut on his left cheek; his scarlet blood was dripping on the snow. “Are you alright?”_

_With her back turned to the young man, Silyah let go of a frozen tear. It ran across her cheek and shattered on the ground when she spun around to look at him. “Artemis?”_

_The young man’s pale lips formed a smile. “You’re alive!” For the time it took to say it, he truly looked happy. “I was afraid Caskar had killed you already.”_

_“You don’t get it, don’t you?” she whispered, choking on her words._

_“Get it?”_

I would suggest you don’t get too friendly with Artemis… I have noticed how you two act together… _Beetee’s words joined the chorus of_ The Hanging Tree _in Silyah’s brain. The girl slowly walked towards Artemis. She was shaking just like she had during the Reaping._

_Artemis looked at her, “Is something wrong?”_

_More frozen tears escaped Silyah’s eyes… She threw her arms around Artemis and cried on his shoulder. “We are the last two standing, Arty,” she buried her face in his coat, not caring about the blood dripping from his cheek._

_Artemis stared at her. “We are?” A weak frown spread across his pale features._

_“They just took Caskar’s body.”_

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.

_Silyah tightened her grip on Artemis, her arms wrapped around his neck._

_“Silyah?” His tone had changed, he now sounded worried. “What are you –”_

_Silyah pulled Artemis even closer, the movement sending them both to the ground._

_For a second, the freshly fallen snow flew into the cold air, forming a white cloud around the two tributes before falling back down, covering Artemis’s jet-black hair with iced crystals._

_Silyah’s fingers brushed his hair, the outline of her old and familiar smile was playing across her lips. She leaned closer to him; their faces not even inches apart… Her lips were about to meet his… Her hands framed the boy’s face, slowly moved down to his jaw, and then to his neck. Her thumbs lightly flew above his adam’s apple._

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

_Artemis’s irises got smaller as his eyes grew wider. “Silyah… What are you doing?” He gasped. The color of his skin seemed to lose a few shades – as if the boy was trying to blend in with the snow despite the blood from his cheek coloring it dark red._

_The girl’s tears fell on his cheeks, the salt in them burning in his wound. Silyah’s shaking hand closed around Artemis’s throat. She shifted her weight for it to be concentrated on the boy’s chest, just over his lungs._

_Artemis moved again and again, against the weight pressing down on his rib cage. His breathing was getting worse than how it had previously been. He locked his hands around hers and, with despair, tried to force them away from his neck artery._

_“I’m so sorry,” she mouthed, fighting against the resistance coming from Artemis._

_Artemis had long ago realized that if things ever came down to this, Silyah would have had no problem killing him off, but he had never dared to imagine that she would actually do it._

_He used the little strength he hoped he might possess in an attempt of removing her hands from his neck._

_Silyah was really shaking now; both from the panic and from the pressure she was trying to apply on Artemis’s throat. She could not even see his face anymore due to the tears filling up her vision and it was better that way._

_The boy moved for an instant, though it was clear he was losing energy and then, it ended. Artemis had tensed for one second, just before his limbs became lifeless. His hands lost their grip on Silyah’s and fell on the snow. The rhythmic beat that once could have been felt in his chest slowed down dramatically until the one that took it away could not feel it anymore._

_Silyah collapsed on Artemis’s body. The ice was already starting to freeze his corpse._

_The girl felt numb and empty; devoid of humanity. Still shaking like a leaf, she rolled away from him and got to her feet. She wiped away her tears with her bloody hands and stared at her victim._

_Artemis’s eyes were frozen, just like the rest of his body was about to be. His gaze seemed locked into her’s, his last look still captured in the blue and hazel colour of his irises. His lips already sported a faint shade of blue. He looked like a doll, unmoving and cold._

_Silyah swallowed back the bile that had climbed up from her stomach. His accusatory stare was piercing her soul, if she still had any, that is._

_The next minute felt like the rest of eternity, and maybe it had been. It had started snowing again; the white crystals falling from the sky were now slowly forming a soft sheet over the dead raven-haired boy. Soon, his skin would be too cold to even allow the smallest of the flakes to melt against it. The short red line on his cheek seemed so colorful in the ocean of white… The frost on Artemis’s body was an exact replica of the one he had once painted on his arm… It sickened Silyah to watch him there, lifeless, staring and utterly beautiful._

_She looked down to her bloody hands and attempted to wipe them clean on her snow-covered coat. Her hysterical cries resonated in the empty arena. “I’m so sorry!” She screamed frantically, as if she was trying to remove the air from her own lungs. “I’m so sorry!” she wept. The blood would not go away, reminding the girl of a character from a seventeenth century play she had read a long time ago._

_As if the weight of the whole world suddenly fell on her shoulders, the girl crumpled to the ground. “There could only be one winner!” she screamed to her judgmental conscience as she rocked back and forth on the cold mattress of ice and snow._

_She looked back at Artemis’s body and crawled towards it. She could not stand to look into his eyes. For the last time, her fingers brushed the boy’s body. She closed his eyelids. Not being able to see his hate-filled eyes slightly soothed the girl. The snow on Artemis’s face had partially melted with her touch. “I’m shattering the ice once again,” she whispered, partly to herself, partly to the body. “Goodnight,_ Ice Prince _.”_

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

_Silyah got up and turned away. The snow gently falling in her hair almost looked like some type of jewelry… A victor’s crown, perhaps… The last cannon shot of the 80th Hunger Games filled the silence and echoed in the girl’s mind as she walked away, leaving Artemis’s limp body behind._

* * *

Silyah woke up as a horrible, window-shattering scream resonated in her eardrums. She sat straight up in her bed. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her long nails dug into her palms. She only realized that she had been the one screaming when her lungs begun to feel empty of oxygen. Panting, she tried to relax her fingers and looked down at her hands to see if there was any blood that was not hers hidden somewhere between the folds.

Artemis had been in the kitchen – he had woken up a little while ago to get a glass of water – when the scream startled him. Taken aback, the boy had lost his grip on his glass of water. He watched it shatter on the ground. He unmistakably identified the scream as Silyah’s.

Artemis walked over to the girl’s room. He gently knocked on her door. “Silyah?”

There came no answer.

Artemis frowned, though he despised entering a room without consent, the scream had made him forget his manners. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside. “Silyah, are you alright?”

She was clearly awake, but she did not turn to face him. Silyah was looking right in front of her, still breathing heavily. She had heard Artemis’s question, but the realization that the Artemis from her nightmare had asked her the same one had rendered her speechless.

Still not getting an answer, Artemis came over to her. He almost felt concerned… The girl was awfully quiet, as silent as an Avox… “Silyah?”

Her eyes were huge; she tried hard not to blink, for every time she did, she saw him, frozen on the ground. Her heart was beating so fast it might as well have found a way out of her chest. “Artemis…” she whispered, her voice raspy due to her scream.

The raven-haired boy sat at the edge of her bed. “Yes?”

She faced him and studied his features carefully, beginning with the angles of his face, then the colors on his skin, which were all suggesting that he was very much alive. Finally, her eyes found his. There was no hate in them, only a shade of worry.

“I heard you scream… Is something wrong?” Artemis asked again. He would not stop asking before she gave some sort of reply, audible or not.

She cleared her aching throat, wondering if her voice would crack if she spoke.

As if driven by an invisible force, Silyah grabbed Artemis’s hand and felt for his pulse. Avoiding to touch, or even look at his neck, she moved closer to him to hear his heart beat.

Artemis blinked. What was the girl doing? He did not ask out loud, though; something had clearly shaken Silyah, so he simply let her calm down. He did, however, wonder what could have made her behave like that…

It was not until she was one hundred percent sure that Artemis was still alive that she spoke. “I’m fine for now…” she murmured while reluctantly letting go of his hand. Well, that was awkward, she thought as she sat on the edge of her bed, side by side with Artemis.

The young man looked at her. “It’s strange, seeing you so dark minded... You always sound so positive…”

“I thought that I could handle this whole situation with calm, but apparently, the truth ended up slapping me in the face.”

Artemis nodded. “I know that feeling.”

Silyah wanted to tell him that she was not even afraid about her own fate in the arena; that she was afraid for him and what the Hunger Games could make her do, but she could not let the words slip from her mouth. Instead, she let her shoulders sink and looked at Artemis, trying not to let her eyes get watery.

The boy tried to read her face. For once, it was not exactly an easy task. “It’s late, you need sleep. We can’t have you looking tired for your interview with Caesar…”

“I don’t want to have anymore nightmares…” She was about to add “about you,” but she bit her tongue. “You’ll have to get some sleep too… I hope your ear drums will forgive me for my scream,” she said with a touch of her good old humor.

“My ear drums are fine…” Suddenly, a light smile appeared on Artemis’s lips. “I’ll be right back…”

Silyah raised an eyebrow and the boy left.

What was she going to do about Artemis? What was she going to do about herself? She felt that her dream was a message from her subconscious, telling her that the arena could have to power to influence her, change her and bring the dark part of her personality on the front stage… She wrapped her bed sheet around herself to stop her shivering.

Artemis then appeared at her door, carrying two cups of a warm liquid.

The corners of Silyah’s mouth rose slightly. “Is that..?”

“Yes, it’s hot chocolate…” Artemis sat down on the bed giving her a cup. With a devious grin, he dipped his index into the cloud of whipped cream and wiped it on her nose. “Cream-nose,” he simply said. After a brief reflection, Artemis truly wondered what was going on in his brain; this sudden friendliness was so unlike him.

Nevertheless, this bizarre act had had the power to make her smile as she squinted her eyes and removed the cream. “Thanks.” Resting her shoulder on his, Silyah sighed and shamelessly made a small movement as Artemis took a sip from his drink, causing the boy’s hand to jump. “It’s the return of the mustache,” she said, clearly cheered up the liquid on Artemis’s upper lip. Memories were so precious in times like these… “Now we are equal, again.”

Artemis lowered the cup, giving her a look, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, it did not look as scary considering the line of chocolate above his mouth.

“Sorry, I had to do it,” she laughed quietly. She rested back against him and this time, she did not move until her own cup was emptied.

“Go to sleep now, or Effie will be going frantic tomorrow,” said Artemis.

“Thanks again,” she gave him a sweet smile and placed her cup on her nightstand. “Good night Arty,” she said before wondering why she had used the nickname she had heard in her dream.

Artemis had been halfway to the door when she called him by his sobriquet. It almost made him tense up. His eyes moved back to her with a slight confusion, then he seemed to get back to his senses. “You’re most welcome.”

Silyah fell back against her pillow and plunged into a dreamless sleep in less than five minutes.

Artemis stepped outside, closing the door gently. He felt somewhat guilty for putting one of Beetee’s sleeping pills in her drink, but the girl clearly needed to sleep. Dreamlessly.

After briefly wandering down the District 3 apartment, Artemis sat down on the couch of the living room. A thought had struck him. This moment he had just spent with Silyah was most likely the last nice one they would share. Tomorrow would be the interviews and then, the arena would be waiting for them with deadly, open arms.

Through the big window, the citizens of the Capitol were still buzzing around despite the late hour. For the most part, they were probably all waiting for the moment of the first kill…

Artemis leaned back, sighing. For some reason, he really wanted to know what had shaken Silyah. He tried to think of a reason that could horrify the girl who could always see the good side of almost every situation. The fact that he might have been the reason did not even cross his mind.

Slowly, Artemis’s eyelids started to feel heavier and soon enough, the slim teenage boy was asleep on the couch.


	15. Chapter Fourteen - Coaching Session

When Effie arrived in the living room, her heart jumped in her chest. She had not expected to see a sleepy tribute on the couch; not when the beds in the District 3 rooms were so comfortable.

She walked towards him and gently shook his shoulder. Though her touch had been gentle, her voice was as loud and clear as ever. “Artemis, it’s time to wake up, we have a big, big, big day!”

The boy’s eyes shot open. He gasped in surprise, almost falling down from the sofa. “Effie.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Obviously, I was sleeping.”

 _That would be a reasonable answer,_ thought Effie. “Well, let me tell you, you look like a boy who just slept on the couch,” she said, being half-sincere and half-joking. “You better start getting ready for the day!”

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Yes… I imagine I should,” he said, sitting up. “I will hurry…”

“At least you were easier to wake up than Silyah. I almost thought that she was in a coma when I got into her room.”

Artemis’s facial expression froze. “Oh, I guess that she was just sleeping very deeply,” he replied in a tone betraying a slight ounce of guilt. “I will see you at breakfast,” he then added.

Effie smiled, nodded and waved him away.

* * *

Silyah walked in the dining room, her head still slightly fuzzy from whatever Artemis had put in her hot chocolate. Wondering if she should take her revenge on the boy, she sighed and headed towards a tall glass of orange juice.

When Artemis came in, his fellow tribute turned an accusatory eye on him, although her vision was still partially foggy. Silyah paced towards him and with her index finger, she pushed him firmly but not too harshly against the wall. “What. Did. You. Put. In my drink?” she asked before backing off, looking paler than usual. Now standing close to Artemis, she noticed some faint dark circles under his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept too well because of her atrocious scream.

The dark-haired boy blinked. “I would be deeply offended by this lack of trust,” he said slowly. “However, breakfast has just arrived,” he forced some eloquence in his speech in an attempt to hide how tired he was.

Silyah shook her head, clearing away some wandering clouds. A small voice at the back of her mind, the one that was not affected by the anesthetic told her that Artemis had done whatever he had done for her own good, but the other part was still wondering what had possessed the boy to do that.

They both sat at the table, every now and then eyeing each other suspiciously before Silyah asked her question again, though this time in a friendlier tone. “You did put something in my drink earlier, right?”

Artemis’s mismatching eyes seemed to avoid her… Why did _he_ all of a sudden feel guilt? “You needed to sleep unaffected by dreams…”

“I mean… We both know that was true,” she said softly. “Thanks… I guess…”

“No need to thank me,” sighed Artemis.

“Oh, dear! Look at you two!” Effie stepped in the kitchen, as fresh as an electric blue rose. She looked at the clock and rolled her eyes. These tributes seemed civilized enough to have an abridged version of the interview coaching session… “Get something in your stomachs and go get some beauty rest. I will let you both take a three-hour nap; you need it. I will come to wake you up at nine.”

Both teenagers were certainly not about to argue with that. The tributes thus did as they were told; they took a quick breakfast, thanked their escort and headed back to their rooms.

Three hours of good Capitol-worthy sleep would be just enough to satisfy their tired bodies.

* * *

Exactly three hours later, Effie “the alarm clock” Trinket knocked on Silyah’s door. The effects of the stuff Artemis had put in her drink had now worn off; she felt brand new.

Effie gave the girl a long and silky dress along with a pair of shoes for her to practice her walk and posture before the interview. She put on the dress and with a sigh, saw that the shoes her escort had chosen for her were the nine-inch high, heel-less ones.

Before Effie had the time to wake Artemis up, Beetee had asked her to review their coaching plan. She therefore delegated the task to Silyah, who was cursing the person who had invented her toe-squeezing shoes.

Surprisingly steadily, she walked to the door of Artemis’s room, making a point of clapping her shoes on the floor, just like Effie did. “Are you ready for your big, big, big day?” she sang in a cheerful Trinket voice. There came no reply from the boy. “Artemis? Effie told me that it was time for you to wake up.” Behind the door, everything was still silent. Silyah slowly opened it, peeking inside of the luxurious room. “Come on, sleepy Arty,” she smiled at her rhyme and sat on the edge of the boy’s bed, placing a hand on his slim shoulder.

Artemis’s raven hair had fallen in front of his face. He almost looked too pale, but somehow peaceful… It would almost be a shame to wake him up to the nightmare that was reality.

Silyah then wondered if she would ever see him like this in the arena; peaceful and exhausted as his pulse would weaken slowly… And she did not exactly feel good about such a thing happening anytime soon.

The boy moved, opening his eyes. Clearly, he had not expected to see Silyah sitting at his side, but decided to hide his surprise under a quick comment. “Do you always watch younger boys sleep?”

“Good morning, handsome,” laughed the girl with her fake Capitol accent. “And, you tell me, do you always reply with a witty comeback when someone wakes you up?”

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I do?”

Silyah faked a frown. “Maybe. And by the way, you are not that much younger than I am. Don’t make my fifteen years feel like fifty.”

The teen chuckled faintly. Artemis sat up; now realizing how stunning the girl was in her dress.

Feeling his gaze on her outfit, Silyah lifted the bottom of her gown, revealing the deadly looking shoes she wore. “Look at what Effie strapped me into,” she rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“It’s in times like these that I am glad not to be a female,” whispered Artemis, thinking of the horror that could happen if “left-foot Fowl” would ever have to wear such footgear.

“I don’t think it would suit you,” laughed Silyah.

“Are you be insinuating that I am ugly?” Artemis raised his eyebrow once again.

“No, I’m just saying that I prefer you as the boy you are.”

“Oh,” Artemis turned away. He felt a most unfamiliar warmth spreading over his cheeks.

“I’ll let you get ready…” Silyah got up from the bed, carefully maneuvering her heel-less shoes to the door.

“Most kind of you.”

The girl curtsied and closed the door behind her.

* * *

Some time later, both the District 3 tributes, as well as Effie were in the living room.

She had taught the two teenagers how to walk up to the stage, how to smile, how to sit, how to get back up and finally, how to bring the light on their facial features. In summary, most of the morning had been spent getting up and sitting back down, waving, smiling and pronouncing every syllable of Effie’s diction exercises.

“Silyah, you have such pretty eyes, make sure to make eye contact with every person in the audience at least once! And Artemis, your posture is impeccable; it makes you look so influential!” she almost felt the urge to clap. “The way you both present yourselves seem very promising!”

Artemis smirked. That part of the Hunger Games was certainly not that terribly bad to go through.

“Are you done Effie?” Beetee called from the entrance of the room. The woman nodded with a bright smile.

Beetee adjusted his glasses over his eyes and looked at his precious notebook. “This evening, as you know, will be the last time you will have to dazzle the rich Capitol sponsors… You will need to play with the most important parts of your personalities and forget about the rest. We want the whole nation to have the same opinion about you,” he paused and turned the page of his book. “Silyah, after having observed you, I noted that you were very logical, composed and kind. This means that you must answer Caesar’s questions in a friendly and calm tone, but that you must hint at the fact that you have some strategies at the back of your mind.” Beetee turned the page once again. “Artemis, you are really clever, I’d even say cunning at times and you have a chilly sense of humor, as we discussed in the train…”

Artemis raised an eyebrow at their mentor, giving him a rather devious grin.

“Yes, that thing,” said Beetee, slightly disturbed by the boy’s iconic smile. “For your interview, try to stay very neutral and thoughtful. Add a touch of irony to ease the mood at times and you will be all set.”

“And if all else fails, just give them brilliant and victorious smiles and look pretty!” added Effie.

“As long as you don’t freeze the audience with that smirk of yours, Ice Prince, you’re going to be fine,” Silyah told the boy, with a grin of her own.

The boy’s eyes moved to her. “How amusing, Ms. Natho.”

Beetee watched the two exchange their usual witty comments and then gave them greater details about the interviews.

Before getting his dinner, the mentor managed to intercept Artemis, making sure that Silyah and Effie were in the kitchen before speaking. “Be careful, Artemis. I have a feeling that you and Silyah got rather close this week… And that is not so good for anyone’s mental health during the Games…”

“I am aware of this fact… I can assure you that this _friendship_ will not make any difference regarding our view of each other in the Games,” replied the boy.

Beetee nodded. “Let’s go eat.”

* * *

After dinner, Ilranor and her prep team got hold of Artemis, while Xarone did the same with Silyah. The stylist had brought their respective tributes in their rooms and had worked once again on exfoliating their pale skins.

The boy with electric yellow hair, Izolt, took care of Artemis`s complexion and makeup while the other man, who was sporting a sparkling silver bow tie and whose name was Throika, worked on Artemis’s hair. He seemed to be installing some sort of device in it…

Artemis resisted against the urge to roll his eyes as Izolt traced his lower lashline with black eyeliner.

Meanwhile, the only woman in Artemis`s prep team worked on the boy`s nail, giving him a simple manicure. “You are handling this situation very well,” she told Artemis. “Last year’s tributes nearly tried to kill us when we got him ready,” she laughed, mostly to hide the fact that she had been thinking about how easy to would be to beautify Artemis for his funerals if he never made it out of the Games.

Ilranor came in during the late afternoon, carrying Artemis’s interview suit.

“Very handsome!” The stylist congratulated her prep team. “Excellent job, as always,” she walked towards Artemis, a brilliant smile stretching upon her golden lips. “Let me show you what I have in store for today,” she said, giving Artemis her drawing pad. “I worked around the concept of the evolution of technology; from steam engines to electrical wires and optical fibers.”

Artemis’s knowledge in fashion in from his own time was limited to popular designers and to the type of Armani suit that flattered him the most, but as far as he could tell, Ilranor was a true artist and perhaps an engineer considering the technological aspect of her work. Her drawing represented a mix of ancient and modern times; a dark dress jacket layered over a vest and a black shirt with a slight Victorian edge. The pants looked like simple well-fitted trousers, but of course, the stylist had made sure they would not be any “everyday” pants.

“Once again, I made some electrical embellishments in the fabric,” she said while showing him the actual outfit.

Artemis nodded in approval. “I like it, as always.”

Ilranor pressed on a chromed gear train-shaped broach on the jacket’s right collar flap and the outfit lit up. From under the collar and on the vest, modern-looking electronic paths began to glow in the official colors of this year’s District 3 team; blue, purple and white. Chrome gears were adorning the sleeves, decorating the cufflinks of the dress shirt.

Artemis was by all means amazed, even a bit inspired by the presence of technological components inside the fabric of the suit.

The golden stylist helped her tribute change into the outfit, which had a modern, yet classical cut. Artemis then noticed that the glowing electronic paths also embellished the bottom of his pants. Ilranor was about to turn the boy towards a full-length mirror, but stopped, remembering something. She searched through Artemis’s drawer and found his golden coin. She placed it around his neck like a medal. “It fits extremely well with the style of this outfit. It looks like the heart of the machine,” she pointed out as she brought him to the mirror.

Artemis’s lips formed a faint smile. “Yes, it does.” The heart of the machine indeed; it was the spark of decency hidden underneath the boy’s cold heart and it seemed to grow as the years passed…

The young man took a look at the person in the mirror. Clearly, the prep team had installed something in his hair, for every fifth second of so, a line of light bearing different pale shades went through his raven-black, smoothed back locks.

“Ready to go?” asked Ilranor.

“Yes,” Artemis adjusted his golden coin over his chest and turned to his stylist. “I believe so.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen - Electrifying

The District 3 group gathered at the crystal elevator, Silyah and her prep-team arriving at the same time as Artemis’s.

“That looks dashing!” Silyah complimented the boy, admiring his suit. Her gaze then went to his face and the thin stroke of black eyeliner on his eyes.

Artemis sighed. “I know you want to laugh, please, just get over with it.”

“No… I’m actually a fan of that guy-liner,” she admitted, unsure if it was a good thing.

The boy raised an eyebrow. Was she teasing him or was she serious? Giving her a good glance, he took the time to inspect her outfit. She was dazzling. The girl wore a floor-length strapless gown with an adjusted sequined top that hugged her curves. A silver jeweled belt accentuated her waist and her skirt was flowing and vaporous. Just like Artemis’s suit, her whole dress glowed in various shades of blue, purple and white. The female tribute’s hair had been left curly and included the same light mechanism as Artemis’s. Her brown locks fell below waist-height, partially hiding her long-sleeved bolero, which was made of a lace woven into gear patterns.

Effie looked at the two tributes with pride in her eyes. “Fashionistic! Absolutely fashionistic!” She placed one of her hands under Silyah’s chin. “I love what you did with their make up!” She told the stylists as she went to Artemis. “The eyeliner really accentuates your unique eyes,” the Capitol woman granted him a pleased smile.

If there were sentences Artemis had never expected to hear, that one was probably one of them. “Thank you,” he said slowly and reluctantly as Effie pushed her group in the elevator and headed for the backstage area of Caesar Flickerman’s show, where the District 1 and 2 tributes were already waiting.

As they walked behind the others, Caskar stared at them and raised a glittery eyebrow. “Nice eyeliner, Art,” he laughed.

Artemis’s eyes narrowed. He had a feeling he would not mourn that particular tribute’s death for too long if his time came before his in the Games. “If I were you, I would not comment negatively on other tributes’ make up, _glitter-brows_.” This was not exactly the kind of insult Artemis was used to come up with, but saying it brought him instant gratification.

Elon and Crelin turned at the sound of Artemis’s voice. They looked at him, not saying a word. Caskar clenched his fists and Geneva whispered something in his ear. The Career tribute smirked before noticing the pair of District 2 teens. “Are you going to stare at them like that forever? Do shiny lights put you in a trance?” he asked them as if they were unintelligent children.

Crelin moved her eyes to him, snapping out of a strange state. “Envious because we’re not looking at you?” she asked back in a mocking tone as Elon simply laughed.

“Calm down Caskar,” he said.

The District 1 Career gave him a look. Somehow, all his credibility had left his side when his stylist had applied the second coat of long-lasting silver glitter on his brows.

Artemis smirked with satisfaction.

More tributes then began to arrive, all of them dressed beautifully despite the fact that no one was as eye-catching as the District 3 team… Except, perhaps, for Caskar`s eyebrows.

“Wow, Caskar, I never knew you were on _that_ team,” Silver’s voice came through the line. “Pink suits you _so_ well,” she smirked, moving her blue eyes to Artemis and Silyah. “Still not fooling anyone,” she whispered with a wink.

“It’s not pink, it’s _silver,_ which is a lot worst,” spat Caskar as Silyah waved “hello” to the District 6 girl.

Silver raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t suit your skin tone, but then again, I don’t really think you can look good in anything,” she snapped back at the tall, irritating boy.

“Silver, stop provoking him,” said the dark-haired boy with pale olive eyes beside her. He was the boy tribute from 6, Jehl Amnel.

Silver sighed. “Fine…” She knew that Jehl was a lot more nervous about the outcomes of the Games than she was.

“I need all of the tributes on stage!” suddenly yelled a member of the show’s technical crew who appeared from behind the door leading to the stage.

“Don’t let me trip,” whispered a smiling Silyah to Artemis when they reached the set of stairs that would lead them to being the stars of Caesar’s show.

He knew that she was just joking; referring to the time when they first arrived in the Capitol. “No worries,” the boy whispered back as the spotlight of the stage partially blinded him. On retrospect, it was a good thing that the tributes were not exactly able to make out clear faces in the giant crowd.

The twenty-four teenagers paraded on the stage and sat on their respective chairs; District 1 to 6 on the right side of the stage, 7 to 12 on the left one. In the middle of the stage were two tall chairs, one of which was facing away from the audience. In the seat was a man wearing a shimmering blue suit and bright aqua-colored hair.

A chorus of trumpets began to play and massive Capitol crowds gathered all around the Capitol, cheering loud enough to be heard from miles away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to your favorite Hunger Games’ master of ceremonies, the one and only; Caesar Flickerman!” announced Claudius Templesmith in his strong radio voice. At the same moment, a light appeared on the aqua-haired man and he turned to the audience, flashing a radiant smile.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome everyone! Welcome to the 80th Annual Hunger Games!” he shouted as he got up, gleaming with confidence. “Aren’t you all exited to see the tributes?” he asked, his wide grin somehow getting wider; of course, he had the audience at his fingertips. “Well, it seems that the odds are in your favor tonight, because look at who we’ve got here!”

The host made a brief introduction of his talk show and then promptly called up the evening’s first tribute, Geneva Crass from District 1.

The young woman walked up to Caesar, her feline features accentuated by her attitude. She looked like a lioness; proud of her looks and ready to attack.

After exactly three minutes, Geneva left her place for Caskar to be interviewed. The boy with the sparkly eyebrows now looked slightly more menacing as he talked about how prepared he was for the Games.

Crelin and Elon from 2 then followed, both vaguely speaking of their everyday lives and interests before discussing possible plans and strategies.

With a heart beating as loud as the cheering audience, Silyah mentally prepared herself for her moment under the spotlight.

“Our next tribute electrified all of Panem during the official parade and she keeps on shining bright; would you please welcome the lovely Silyah Natho!” shouted Caesar cheerfully.

Trying to ignore the pounding in her ears, Silyah did as she was told and walked timidly to the empty chair next to the master of ceremonies. She smiled and waved at the applauding audience.

“Oh my, you look like a techno clockwork angel!” exclaimed Caesar as he shook hands with the girl from 3. The pair sat down and the crowd became more attentive. “Ms. Silyah, I wish to point out your dress. You look amazing, but tell me, are the missing light bulbs on my stage somewhere in there?”

Silyah laughed along with the Capitol citizens. “Maybe, who knows? You would have to ask my stylist, Xarone.”

Caesar smiled kindly. “Do you like the fashion from the Capitol?”

“I think that it is very interesting,” nodded Silyah. “I love how creative the people are.”

“I heard somewhere that you actually had already worn light before, is that true?” he wondered.

“Yes, I did. I designed some light-up clothing for a project back in District 3. I combined the teachings of my father, who comes from that district and those from my grandmother who used to live in 8 before having my mother in 3.”

“I’m sure your family must have been proud,” added Caesar. “How did they react after the Reaping?” Now, the questions were getting more serious.

“They were… shocked,” suggested Silyah with a nostalgic smile. A few members of the audience suppressed a laugh. _Shocked._ ”My younger brother reacted differently, however. He almost laughed at the way I shook my way on stage.”

A collective “awww” came from the crowd. “Do you think that you are ready to face the Games? I see that you are not shaking anymore, so that is an improvement,” he smiled at her.

Silyah smiled back, putting just the right hint of sorrow in her eyes. “I don’t know if anyone can be ready for such a thing. Physically, I know that I am not the strongest, so I would never allow myself to be too confident… Emotionally, I think that I am fine, but that is my answer _now_. Ask me again when I will set a foot in the arena and I might sound a tad cowardly,” she chuckled. Following Effie’s advice, Silyah made eye contacts with Caesar and the various members of his audience.

The master of ceremonies then went on to a quick round of questions; one of which being about her opinion on her fellow tribute District 3.

“I would not want to influence the viewer’s opinions by answering, but he is a good person. Highly intelligent,” she elusively answered before smiling and laughing, just like Effie had taught her.

“What do you think you will do first once you get in the arena?” The tanned turquoise-haired host asked Silyah.

She took a deep breath, analyzing her possibilities. “I will evaluate my surroundings. I will see what the arena has to offer and I will try my hardest to survive.”

A buzzer went off. “Seems like we are out of time,” Caesar got up and took Silyah’s hand. “Best of luck, Silyah Natho, the clockwork angel from District 3!” The audience cheered for the tribute as she went back to her seat, everyone’s eyes following her glowing dress and optical fibre-like strands of hair.

Caesar then introduced Artemis and invited him in the chair Silyah had just vacated. Artemis sat down after shaking hands with the charismatic host. From somewhere in the crowd, a whistle was heard.

“Looks like you already have some fans,” said Caesar, shining his billion watts smile.

Artemis gave a prompt nod, trying to look at the crowd through the light of the projectors. “Yes, it would appear so… I appreciate it,” he said, thanking the one who had whistled.

Caesar laughed. “Oh, if only _I_ could receive that much attention!” he said, almost innocently, causing a new wave of cheers and whistles coming from the Capitol citizens.

“It seems to me that you are rather popular too, not that it surprises me,” commented Artemis, the corners of his mouth rising into a smirk.

“Why thank you!” said Caesar to his viewers. “But, let’s bring the focus back on the boy beside me.” The master of ceremonies turned to the young man in question. “Did you ever expect to be selected during the Reaping? From what we have seen during the official videos, you have handled the situation with great calm.”

“No, I certainly never thought that I would end up as a tribute… When I heard my name, I was unsure of how to react, I therefore decided to keep my reaction minimal.”

Caesar nodded. “I recently learned that during the course of your training days, a certain _Peeta Mellark_ named you the _Ice Prince_ … May we know the origin story behind the nickname?” he wondered, curious. Fittingly enough, the boy’s outfit, as well as the fibre optics in his hair, turned icy blue.

“Well, I don’t know if it is as entertaining as you might hope, Caesar, but since you ask, my district companion and I went to Mr. Mellark’s camouflage station during training. He asked us to impress him after having given us some camouflage challenges and unknowingly, both Silyah and I painted frost on our arms.”

Caesar looked amazed. “Really? What a strange coincidence!”

“Indeed,” nodded the pale teen.

“After the training and the private sessions, were you surprised and pleased by your score of seven?”

“Yes, I was rather pleased considering that I am not the most athletic person here. I do enjoy the fact that the Gamemakers took into account intellect instead of just relying on brute force.”

“Is that how you plan to survive the Games, brain over brawn?”

“Most likely; as I already told you, my athletic abilities are not exactly in my favor, therefore I will probably rely on my intellect to keep myself alive.”

Caesar nodded once again. “Have you discovered any new talents during your training days?”

“I actually managed to discover what I lack talent in,” replied Artemis. “However, I master the art of tie knots.”

“You know about tie knots? Would you please tell me if mine is all right? I had to do it myself while my stylist was running around to find my jacket,” laughter filled the crowd. Caesar certainly knew how to make his guests sound at ease.

“Of course, Mr. Flickerman.” The boy looked carefully at the host’s tie. “Well, the knot looks slightly too large compared to the width of the tie…”

Caesar adjusted it. “Better like this?” Artemis nodded his approval. “After you win these Games, I’m counting on you to be my tie expert,” Caesar added, making the audience cheer even louder. “That’s a deal?”

“I would consider it an honor,” said Artemis with a smirk.

The citizens of the Capitol clapped and screamed. “What skill from your district do you think will be the most useful in the arena?”

Artemis gave the host a mysterious smile. “I believe in the element of surprise, therefore, I am afraid you will have to wait to know, Caesar.”

“Well, I cannot wait to see what you have in mind,” said the master of ceremonies as the buzzer went off. “That’s all the time we had. Thank you and good luck to Artemis Fowl, the Ice Prince from District 3!” Caesar shook Artemis’s hand a second time and Artemis sat back beside Silyah, letting District 4 have their turn up front.

* * *

The anthem of Panem played its last note as the tributes and their teams were sent to the Training Center’s lobby. The District 3 group got into the crystal elevator and headed for their suite.

“So, when did you decide to flirt with the audience, Ice Prince?” Silyah’s lips turned into a teasing smile as they went up.

Artemis raised an eyebrow at her. “I would hardly refer to it as flirting, _Clockwork Angel_ , it was simply a strategy.”

The elevator’s doors opened up. The mentor, escort and stylists were the first ones to pass. Then, Silyah followed Artemis out of the crystal entrance, her heart skipping a beat as she let out a frightened squeal.

She would have fallen face-first if Artemis had not caught her as her thin high heel got stuck into the small crack between the elevator and the District 3 floor. However, as Artemis had never been the one for instinct, he had reacted just in time to catch the girl, but not exactly quickly enough not to be taken by surprise by the sudden weight pulling down on him. The result: the two tributes crashed to the floor.

After her heart actually started beating again, Silyah got to her feet and held out a hand to help Artemis get up. She went pale when she realized how close they had been and how she had ended up right on top of him just like in her dream… At least they had fallen on a soft carpet rather than on treacherous ice. “Are you okay?” asked the girl.

“Yes, I think so…” replied Artemis, getting up and smoothing out his jacket. “I’ve had worst falls than this.”

Silyah grabbed him gently by the shoulder to maintain her balance as she raised her foot to take off her high heels.

“I’m glad they did not force me into a pair of these,” said Artemis. For some reason, which he could not comprehend, his heart was also beating considerably faster… It was probably the sudden fall…

Silyah smiled. “Don’t let Effie hear that, she might get some ideas for you. I just hope that the tribute’s arena uniform will not include those,” she said, removing her second shoe.

“I would highly doubt so… Everybody dying because of broken ankles; not exactly thrilling…” Artemis shook his head, now noticing for the first time that Silyah was shorter than him by an inch.

“Death by fashion, how dramatic! How… Fashionistic!” laughed the girl over her clear rapid heartbeat.

“Ah, yes, we better keep that idea to ourselves.”

Silyah nodded and looked in Artemis’s mismatching eyes. Her stare held Artemis’s for a rather long time, until it almost became uncomfortable…

“Silyah?” wondered the boy.

The girl shook her head, fighting against her blush. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

“Silyah? Artemis?” called Effie’s voice from somewhere between the kitchen and the living room. “We’re going to watch the recaps of the interviews while having supper.”

Artemis sighed. “We are on our way, but first I really have to get the eyeliner out of my eyes.”

“Oh, hush, it suits you,” laughed Silyah. “But if you insist, Xarone left some makeup remover on my bathroom sink.”

Artemis gave her a stern look.

“Do you need help taking it off?” she offered slightly awkwardly.

“Yes, please,” admitted the boy.

Silyah led him to her room, glad that her toes were now free of her shoes. Once she got to the bathroom, she grabbed a small cloth dabbed in make up remover and tried her best not to poke Artemis’s eyes.

“This is why men are not supposed to wear make up,” murmured Artemis with annoyance.

“Men?” She raised a teasing eyebrow at him. “Stop blinking that much, I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Strange thing to say for a person who will soon be placed in an arena for the only purpose of killing the 23 others…” commented Artemis in a dry tone.

“Do you want my help?” she asked, bothered by Artemis’s comment. It reminded her of the dark part of her brain; the one which had gifted her her nightmare.

The boy sighed. “Yes…”

After a few painful seconds, Silyah dropped the cloth. “There you go,” she said softly. “It’s the best I can do for now.”

“Thank you.”

Silyah was silent for a moment, eyeing Artemis’s and her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Before we go,” she turned around slowly, facing Artemis. “This might be the last time we will get to speak together, so I have to tell you; you are the only real friend I’ve ever had in a very, _very_ long time… Just… Thank you for that,” she uttered. Artemis was slightly taken aback. He gave her a sincere smile and a look that could have been interpreted as apologetic. What else could he do?

“Let’s go see our interviews,” then said Silyah, trying to sound cheerful, while in fact she was not exactly sure that she really wanted to see what she had looked like during her three minutes in the spotlight.

“If we must,” replied Artemis with just as much conviction.


	17. Chapter Sixteen - The Countdown

Effie had brought everyone’s supper in the living room, where the colossal television screen showed Caesar’s incredible smile.

The group watched the District 1 team take the stage for the second time. Geneva was beautiful in a crystal encrusted dark green gown. Her whole leg was peeking through a slit in the skirt, hinting her not so timid behavior. Her answers were always precise and without a single touch of humor.

Speaking of humor, Caskar then appeared on the screen, his glittery eyebrows doing absolutely nothing in his favor. One could easily tell that jeweled metallic suits were not what he was accustomed to. However, while his external presentation was somewhat of a mockery, he made up for it in the threats he threw at his fellow tributes all throughout his interview.

“Once I will be in the arena,” Caskar had told the host, “the other tributes better run because I won’t even need to get myself a weapon at the Cornucopia.” He showed off his fists, which had unfortunately been painted in silver.

“After having seen the other tributes, do you really think that victory is within your reach?” Caesar asked him.

Caskar sneered. “I never tell people how confident I am, they would be too terrified… _And_ combat would not be as amusing.”

Artemis let out a snort. Never tell people how confident he was?

“There would be no need for him to _tell_ people about his self-esteem,” commented the raven-haired boy. “It is shining out of his pores… Or that might just be the glitter.”

Silyah laughed at his analysis of the Career. “So true!”

“Seems like your sense of humor is rubbing off on him, Silyah,” mentionned Beetee, laughing along. “Nevertheless, you must not underestimate Caskar. He is pretentious, but he seems dangerous.”

Artemis nodded, “I think you’re already mentioned it quite a few times, Beetee.”

“Good, it means that it is to be well understood,” he replied.

“Of course,” Artemis had personally no urge to face Caskar in the arena.

On the screen, Crelin then sat in the interview chair, dressed in a pretty strapless dress with crystals at the waist. Her skirt fell above her knees at the front and was sweeping the floor at the back. The camera closed up on her face as she answered the first question. Something about the District 2 girl’s sea blue eyes seemed off to Artemis and he observed exactly the same phenomenon in Elon’s when he took the stage.

The boy was wearing a more classical suit than the rest of the tributes, just a black outfit with a hint of gray shine. He looked really strong, but he seemed to avoid Caesar’s stare. Instead, as he spoke, he constantly looked in the Gamemaker’s balcony’s direction.

“Why doesn’t he look at the camera or at the audience?” wondered Effie, clearly displeased with Elon’s attitude. “Talk about manners,” she shook her head, making her wig’s curls bounce around her face.

Artemis knew the reason behind the boy’s look. He knew who the District 2 boy was looking at…

But his stream of thoughts was interrupted by Silyah, who hid her blushing face in her curls. “Here I come…” She peeked at the screen through her hair.

“Silyah, remove you hair from your eyes, trust me you want to see the look on your face when Caesar asked you about the lightbulbs on your dress,” said Artemis.

She tossed her still-glowing curls back and looked at the screen.

“Oh my, you look like a techno clockwork angel!” said Caesar. Silyah contemplated her image on the television. Her illuminated dress did indeed give off an angelic vibe. She turned to Xarone, then looked down on herself, her skirt still glowing brightly. She played around with the fabric of the dress as her eyes darted back to the stylist. “I still can’t believe that I got to wear this beautiful gown,” she smiled. “I can’t thank you enough, it’s amazing!”

“My pleasure,” replied the stylist. “Ilranor and I worked night and day to find the perfect attire.” That would explain why Silyah and Artemis had once again been blessed with matching outfits.

Silyah’s attention went back to her on-screen counterpart. A bit of shyness seemed to still be lingering in her voice, but she was mostly comfortable and sweet-looking when she spoke.

“You did well,” commented Artemis. “Caesar seems to make you sound less shy.”

“You think that I can’t handle attention at this point in the Games?” asked Silyah in a joking tone. “That is just too cute of you.”

Artemis was taken by surprise, which clearly showed through his mismatching eyes. Cute?

Silyah was extremely amused by the boy’s look.

“I think that your interview went just according to plan,” Beetee told Silyah. “You charmed the audience with your positive personality. Now it’s your turn, Artemis.”

If Artemis had been pale before, the beaming spotlight on him added to the concealer he wore made him look almost see through, which was a perfect metaphor considering that the interview was supposed to give the viewers a glimpse of the Ice Prince’s mind.

“The Ice Prince…” pondered Effie, watching both the Artemis on the screen and the one in the living room with her. “It truly does suit you,” she added with a satisfied smile.

“Long live the Clockwork Angel and the Ice Prince!” said Ilranor, a huge bright white smile stretching on her face. Long live? Strange thing to say considering the tributes’ imminent fate…

Artemis’s interview answers pleased Beetee. He had this cold, half sarcastic and half ironic humor, which truly entranced the audience. _Cold humor, perfect for the Ice Prince,_ thought the mentor, smiling.

“You know, now that you mentioned it, it is true that Caesar’s tie looked a bit odd at the beginning of the show,” Effie looked thoughtful.

“I really hope you will live to be Caesar’s official tie-fixer,” added Silyah with a small smirk. Artemis looked at the girl.

“Oh, Artemis, just look at your hair!” clapped Ilranor, proud of her new invention. “And look at how your features are accentuated by Izolt’s work!”

“Maybe a sponsor could send you eyeliner in the arena. We never know, it might help you distract some of the female tributes… And probably Kalheb’s... He might want to steal it from you,” joked Silyah.

Artemis suppressed a small chuckle.

Harbor and Aquilna Pearl from District 4 were then interviewed, showing no particular support for one another even though they were cousins.

The tributes from 5, Novia Imous and Lynick Reah, did not seem to be competitive, however, they looked well prepared and rather confident. The 15-years-old Novia looked like an elf in her silky, dark green dress.

The next ones were Silver and Jehl.

“Why did you volunteer for the Games? Did you know the girl whose name had been picked?” Caesar asked the young District 6 woman.

“Yes,” nodded Silver. “I knew her and I volunteered because I thought she was way too young to die. I used to teach her and some other young children in my district when their parents could not afford school,” she said, nostalgic and rather stunning in a blue gown that complimented her eyes.

“Silver and I decided to team up, by the way,” announced Silyah, turning to her mentor.

“She looked very… aggressive during training,” mentioned Beetee.

“That’s only if you are on her bad side,” Silyah pointed out as Caesar asked the District 6 tribute about the thin ring on her left hand.

“Oh,” Silver actually blushed, although it might have been a trick of the light. “It’s an engagement ring,” she told to the audience.

“May we know who is the lucky person you will try to go back home for?”

“His name is Edan Yale… We teached together back in our district,” she said, “and I will do everything in my power to make sure that I will reunite with him…”

“See; deep down she’s a softie,” Silyah told Beetee.

“That’s only because she does not have a weapon in her hands,” said Artemis, still slightly bitter about how Silver constantly brought back the subject of _‘_ _Silyah and him’_.

The Caesar Flickerman’s show progressed on the screen, the participants from 7 each taking their turn in the interview chair. Acassie Fretwer, twelve years old and Moss Alsevre, thirteen years of age, made up the duo with the youngest age ratio.

From District 8, Thea Garber looked like a flower made of sunshine in her frilly yellow dress.

When Kalheb, District 9, appeared on the screen, Effie let a smirk paint itself on her lips. The boy was clearly only relying on his looks. He was wearing a shirt with a deep collar which gave the viewers a peek at his muscular chest. Even the young Marellie Tabrett, the twelve-year-old from his district, could not keep her eyes off the slit in his shirt.

“You were whistled at only once, right?” Silyah asked Artemis while rolling her eyes; annoyed with how Kalheb acted when he was in public. She had talked to him a few times, and he was far from being that much of a showman, but when an audience was involved, he became the very symbol of narcissism.

“One time was just enough.”

Silyah raised both of her eyebrows and whistled at him. “Well, that’s your second one,” she chuckled.

Artemis rolled his eyes in disbelief.

On the screen, Kalheb took off the jacket that was over his shirt and reached for a flower in its pocket, showing off a well-built arm in his motion. Caesar asked him if the rose was meant for him, which amused the audience. Kalheb apologized to the master of ceremonies and threw it somewhere in the audience to the pleasure of the girl who caught it.

Artemis lightly shook his head. “I really don’t like him.” Silyah agreed with him and Effie sighed.

Unfortunately – or fortunately, on a matter of perspective – the District 10 tributes, Trinicia Jestov and Jethro Mellrit, were interviewed in front of a crowd which was still under the effects of Kalheb’s physical appearance.

Delise Novo and Zinque Chart, the dark-skinned tributes from the agriculture district showed through their answers that they were probably the ones with the most endurance in the whole competition, closely followed by Quartz Dahlai and Scpenser Ross from the poorest of the districts, District 12.

“Do you think that this year’s Hunger Games may get winner from your district?” Caesar asked the tall boy from the Seam.

“Maybe… Who knows? What I know is that I am strong and that I have been trained by very strong victors, so I just might have my chances,” answered Scpenser.

And on that last note, Caesar closed off this year’s Tribute Interviews and requested for the audience to go vote for their favorite participants as soon as the show ended.

Beetee then lowered the volume of the television. “What did you think?” he asked his tributes.

“This year has some very interesting participants… I think that if we want to survive, we will have to stay smart,” replied Silyah.

“Smart and likable!” mentioned Effie.

Artemis took a deep breath and nodded. “Seems like that was all for the evening, mind helping me out of this outfit, Ilranor?”

“Of course, Artemis,” answered the stylist. The woman in gold got up and followed Artemis in his room.

Silyah sighed. “I’ll have to get some sleep too,” she said, disappointed to have to let go of the dress she loved so much. “Good night everyone.” She got up, still playing with her glowing skirt and left the living room with her own stylist.

Effie lowered her voice. “Do you think that they stand a chance for tomorrow?”

Beetee adjusted his glasses over his nose. “Truth to be told, if you had asked me the same question just after the Reaping, I would have replied that they were bound to die right away…” He looked at the screen, which was showing the faces of the twenty-four tributes and their training scores. “But now, I have trust in them… If only they were not so easy-going with one another…”

* * *

Before Silyah got the chance to fall asleep, she heard a soft knock at her bedroom’s door. She wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders as she got up to let her guest in. It seemed that this would be her last moment with Beetee before the next day. She was hoping to get some final words of advice from the man, but she was also praying that this time they would not be the cause of some horrible nightmares.

Beetee went to the small desk beside Silyah’s bed, opening his notebook to the page dedicated to her. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Mostly tired… And there is something really strange going on in my throat and stomach,” she said, unable to completely express her fears.

“Stress is kicking in, right?”

Silyah nodded. “And it’s not just stress. It’s worry and panic laced together… But we can’t really do anything about that…”

“Well, I came here to review the strategy we came up with,” Beetee told her. “Tomorrow, you will directly be sent to the preparation area as you wake up, so here we go…” He recited her the plan they had prepared through the course of the week, making a few adjustments after Silyah’s request of teaming up with Silver _and_ Novia. The mentor then asked her a few questions to put her to the test.

At one point, Beetee asked her the question that had been worrying him since the early days after the Reaping; he questioned her on what she would do if she ever found Artemis on the brink of death. Silyah frowned. Would she leave him there so that she would not have to kill him, or save him to pay back for the horrors her twisted imagination might have envisioned for her future in the arena? She brushed the question away, saying that if a situation as such was to present itself, she would act by instinct and by considering the impacts of her choice on the spot. The girl then let out a yawn and blinked, as if to prove the fact that she was really tired. Beetee judged best to let his tribute rest and, wishing her good luck and good night, he headed for Artemis’s room.

The boy was not yet asleep either, though he would also need as many of the precious seconds of rest the night could offer him. At that moment, however, he was sitting on his bed; writing down notes in a small book Beetee had given him.

“Strategies?” wondered Beetee as he saw the book in Artemis’s hands.

“Yes,” nodded the boy, closing it and putting his pen aside. “And I believe that you are here to discuss that very topic.”

The mentor took a seat in a chair beside the teenager’s bed. “Exaclty… You remember what we established already, right?”

“Of course I remember,” even those who did not possess the intellect of Artemis Fowl II were sure to recall the things that would possibly save their lives.

“Good, so just to recap, do not stop directly at the Cornucopia, you are a fast thinker and I believe that you have a creative spirit to help you, therefore evaluate what you can get from the environment around you and then see if there is something that comes from the Gamemakers within your close reach. Take the chance only if you must.”

Artemis nodded. “I had already decided to do as such; I have absolutely no intention of dying in a bloodbath.”

“You will not know what the arena will look like, so be ready to face anything, by the way. Now, there is something I want you to do; first, observe the settings and second, you must pick an ally according to their strengths. Do not make many allies; just make sure to keep a good one around. In order to lure one in, simply show them what an advantage you could be.”

“Understood,” nodded the boy. It was an alien feeling to have someone tell _him_ how he should act, but he was not going to question a man who actually had survived those murderous Games; knowledge was still a valuable thing, after all.

Beetee then gave the boy some other quick survival tricks he had used during his own stay in the Hunger Games and allowed him to share his own tactics. Afterwards, just out of curiosity, he asked Artemis the same question he had asked Silyah… “If you were to find Silyah on the verge of death somewhere in the arena, how would you react?” he asked.

Artemis frowned. “Sadly, it is most likely that I will be on the brink of death before her, but if this situation was to occur, I would help her. Our chances of surviving would definitely improve together depending on how bad her injury might be,” said Artemis with as little emotion as possible. Holly crossed his mind… Through their friendship, the elf had proven to him that allies were always the difference between life and death.

Beetee looked at his watch as he closed his notebook. “Well, Artemis… May the odds be _ever_ in your favor… Good night,” Beetee closed Artemis’s door behind him, trying to be hopeful and wishing for his tributes’ success.

Artemis laid down on his bed, thinking. He wondered if Beetee had asked Silyah what would she do if he were about to die. It was likely… What could she have answered? Hopefully nothing too worrying…

As Artemis brought his blankets over his shoulders, one of the Avoxes closed his room’s light and the boy’s final night in the Capitol thus began…

* * *

The next morning, a gloomy mood was hovering over the twenty-four tributes residing in the Training Center.

Ilranor woke Artemis up as soon as dawn began to shine through the sky. She gave the boy a black T-Shirt and a pair of cargo pants similar to his training attire, but slightly warmer.

“Thank you,” said Artemis faintly.

It was already amazing to the designer to hear that her tribute’s voice was not trembling. The lady who always wore gold led Artemis to the glass elevator. From the corner of his eye, the boy saw Effie and Beetee waving him goodbye. Effie’s eyes somehow looked vaguely puffier than they had the night before…

Artemis drew a deep breath as he got to the roof of the building. Instead of the colorful decorations and overall cheerful ambiance that had filled the place a few nights earlier, a menacing hovercraft was waiting for the stylist and the tribute, greeting them with a low hum. A ladder descended from the machine as Artemis walked towards it, closely tailed by Ilranor. He grabbed the ladder and suddenly, he was frozen in place. During the time it took him to be lifted inside the futuristic plane, Artemis wondered what kind of technology caused his hands to lock over the ladder in such a manner.

A woman in a white coat then appeared, a thick syringe in her hand. “This is called a tracker, Artemis. Stay still and it will be placed in your arm more easily,” she told him in a cold, clinical tone.

Artemis could praise himself lucky that he was not afraid of needles… Nevertheless, he let out a gasp. That needle had hurt even more than the first time Holly had hit him. A sharp pain had filled his entire arm as the woman inserted the tracking device under his skin.

From then on, he officially appeared on the Gamemaker’s screens.

Ilranor climbed on board shortly after Artemis and guided him to a place where a breakfast had been served. The stylist told Artemis to eat anything his stomach could hold, just in case he might not have a quick access to food in the arena.

The young man nodded. “I will…” he said, even if he did not exactly feel hungry due to the circumstances.

A good healthy breakfast and half an hour later, every window the tributes might have had access to within the hovercraft darkened.

“To keep the location of the arena a secret, I assume,” said Artemis.

Ilranor nodded.

“You will be watching the Games,” commented Artemis, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I will,” answered Ilranor though she knew that Artemis’s statement had not been a question. “And believe me, I will always be on District 3’s side no matter what happens.”

“Thank you for the support…”

“I would never leave the Ice Prince and the Clockwork Angel down,” she smiled at him.

Artemis replied to her smile with a genuine one; and those were rare coming from him.

Eventually, the stylist and the tribute were directed towards the hovercraft’s ladder once again. They were dropped into a dark tunnel, which led into catacombs. A Peacekeeper waited for them at the bottom of the tunnel, the man in white leading the pair to a door on which was written “MALE 3.”

“This is it; your final stop…” Ilranor spoke quietly, putting a gentle hand on Artemis’s shoulder.

“My final stop,” Artemis repeated, his voice not so steady anymore. He looked at his stylist with something that could only be fright shining through his mismatched eyes.

Ilranor brought Artemis in the room and instructed him to go take a quick shower before the Games.

The teen nodded, heading for the small bathroom in the dim-lighted apartment.

After he got out, Ilranor handed him some undergarments and the same clothes she had given him in the morning. Then, she combed his raven hair. After she was done, she opened a bag of clothes and looked through it. She pulled out a navy blue coat with multiple removable layers. “There is a small backpack directly sewn on the back of the coat, that way, you will be able to put the layers you don’t use in there.”

“Smart,” commented Artemis.

“And quite fashionable it you want my opinion,” she pointed to the piped seams of the garment, which were of an icy blue color. “Very suiting,” she winked, revealing that she had been the one who requested that color scheme from the District 3 team. She helped Artemis put on his coat and gave him the boots that went along with it. They reached slightly higher than his ankles and were made of a black material, which seemed very sturdy yet, extremely light. Ilranor then reached for one last thing in the pocket of her dress… Artemis’s coin. She gave it to him, an encouraging smile on her lips.

Artemis took it between his fingers and threw the chain around his neck.

“Do you want some time alone before you are called?”

“No, I will get enough time alone in the arena…”

The woman offered him a glass of water and a bowl of fruits to snack on. Ilranor then told him to go brush his teeth; there was very little time left before the call.

When the inevitable time came, Ilranor took Artemis’s hand and led him to a circular plate in the corner of the small room. “Best of luck, Artemis Fowl,” she said as a countdown appeared on a screen set in the wall.

5… 4… 3…

“Make us proud, Ice Prince!” called out Ilranor, her head held high.

2… A glass tube circled Artemis. The boy took a deep breath. _Make us proud…_ He would sure try.

1…

The tube was raised above the ground and led Artemis, as well as the other twenty-three tributes into the heart of the arena.

The light of day blinded the tributes when they emerged from the ground.

Once he got his sight back, Artemis looked around, seeing Silver to his right and the small girl from District 8, Thea, on his other side.

A sixty seconds countdown began.

Silyah tried to locate everyone around her. At her sides were Elon from 2 and Zinque from 11. She could not see Artemis… Perhaps he had been placed right in front of her, hidden by the golden Cornucopia…

The girl took in her settings. The Cornucopia was located at the center of a huge circular meadow, which was surrounded by walls of water. Three enormous waterfalls, each separated by three different paths, were trapping the tributes in the bloodbath… They would have to hike in order to get out of the meadow and get to a safer place… The air smelled of fresh grass, water and forest, and the weather was temperate; warm with a sweet and cool breeze coming from the falls.

The major supplies, such as the weapons and the provisions were gathered at the mouth of the Cornucopia, while some other things such as bed sheets, small water bottles and nearly empty backpacks were scattered around the circle formed by the platforms.

Drawing one collective breath, the tributes waited for the countdown to end.

As he breathed, Artemis could feel that he was trembling… _So, this is how Silyah felt like during the Reaping,_ he thought. His legs were shaking underneath the fabric of his black cargo pants.

Four seconds remained. While nervous hearts were beating loud, Caskar threw on a victorious smirk.

Artemis, on the other hand, kept his face stern. _Don’t let them see the fear._ Two seconds were left.

Claudius Templesmith activated his microphone. “Let the 80th Annual Hunger Games begin!”

As long as the first sixty seconds had been, the next ones passed in a distorted flash. Many tributes headed straight for the Cornucopia. Either they killed, either they died.


	18. Chapter Seventeen - Bloodshed

**Part II**   
**The Alliance**

Artemis followed Beetee’s advice, as well as his instinct, attempting to take whatever was in front of him and hurry away. Easier said than done. The boy got hold of a water bottle and a sleeping bag, but that was all he managed to get without risking too much.

On his side of the arena, Caskar tossed the District 10 boy’s body away as he took yet another step towards the Cornucopia. Jethro Mellrit had been the first victim of this year’s Hunger Games, courtesy of District 1. The Career tribute jumped on a set of daggers; stuffing two of them in his pants’ pockets and keeping one in his hand. He then turned away from the Cornucopia, his dagger and fists ready to harm anyone coming his way. From the corner of his eye, he saw Geneva kill the boy from 5, whose glasses had flown off his face in the chaos of the Games’ first sixty seconds. Not wasting any more time on that scene, Caskar continued to scan the immediate perimeter of the arena. He was looking for _the_ people he truly craved to exterminate… Not too far from him, he caught a brown-haired girl taking down two tributes with a blow cane. She was not the first one on his kill list, but she would still do… Caskar launched for Silver.

The girl from 6 heard the sound of metal slicing through the air, making her take a sharp turn, blocking off the attack with her cane. She focused on her new foe, a smirk stretching on her lips as she identified him. She gave Caskar a quick wink, picking up bags and weapons from the ground before running off. She had more important things to do than to play-fight with the Career. Since the end of the countdown, Silver had shown absolutely no fear, nor had she restrained herself from taking all sorts of useful things at the Cornucopia. She had a blow cane in one hand and a large, well-filled backpack in the other. Not only had she found some pretty good gear, but she also had already taken two tributes down with her newfound weapon. According to her, the blow cane she had selected was the most merciful option out there. It was a quick and painless approach to commit the unthinkable.

Caskar swore. He had tried to follow Silver, but Cylan Actraz, the tribute from 8, had blocked his path… Or at least his corpse did by almost falling at his feet. Avoiding the dead body, Caskar looked up to see Kalheb, who was more than satisfied with his first kill. The tribute from 1 then spotted Acassie from afar. The District 7 girl was dodging a handful of running tributes, as she tried to get to a small stash of glimmering weapons.

The resources around the Cornucopia were going down rather quickly… Not a single second was to be lost on pointless details anymore. For Caskar, now was the time to gather his people in order to claim the remaining supplies as their own. He began to run towards Acassie, only to be interrupted by Trinicia Jestov. 

_I might as well finish off District 10,_ thought the young man as his dagger pierced the girl’s chest.

“Acassie!” shouted Caskar as he then headed towards her.

She was beginning to sort out her various knives, which were all shiny and still unused. “Hey, Caskar! I just saw Silver passing by with way to many weapons for her own good,” she pointed the end of a knife in the direction Silver had taken.

“I know,” grunted the Career quickly. “We’re going to take care of her later. For now, go gather everyone so we can split up the equipment,” he commanded, already starting to make a pile with the weapons and food that would belong to _his_ group for the rest of the Games.

The redheaded girl nodded before running off in the meadow. She was fast and much more than agile, but during her swift run, her attention shifted from the task she had been given…

Artemis was sprinting now; something that was not exactly on his list of favorite activities. He could both feel and hear his heart beating in his ears and he could taste the blood in his mouth. His teeth had been clenched so hard during the past few minutes that he had bitten the inside of his cheek.

Deep within him, he could still feel N°1’s magic, but the barricade separating his body from his time period was still preventing him from escaping Panem.

Artemis allowed himself to take a quick look behind him. The meadow around the Cornucopia was becoming a much more tranquil place. There were a few tributes fighting over backpacks here and there, but most of those who had not died were in the process of getting to safety or trying to be unnoticed. After having assessed the situation, Artemis turned his gaze back to the path in front of him, only to be suddenly halted by the fact that he was mere inches away from hitting a tall wall of stone. It stood right in between him and a possible escape to safer grounds. Artemis took a moment to catch his breath, searching a way up the wall, when the faint sound of boots against grass made his head turn sharply. The redheaded girl from District 7 stood behind him, a throwing knife spinning between her fingers like a drill rod.

“ _Dead_ end, Art?” said Acassie in a mocking tone.

Artemis had to fight not to let his heart throb out of his body. The spinning of the blade made him shiver… Well, he would have lasted at least 10 minutes in those blasted Games; probably more than what most people would have expected from him.

Acassie grinned, liking the sound her precious new weapon made each time it completed one turn. The girl threw her hand back, ready to attack. Caskar would be mad at her for killing the annoying boy, but she could make it look like an accident, couldn’t she? She took her aim and let go of the knife’s handle, but seconds before the weapon left her hand, a small metallic object passed right under her nose. She let out a surprised gasp and just like that it was too late. The course of her blade was now deviating towards Artemis’s left collarbone. Her throw, which could have been fatal, had been rendered harmless – though still painful – by a vulgar distraction. Acassie spun on her heels, searching for the fool who had interrupted her attack. There was no one in sight apart from the gathering Careers in the middle of the meadow. Perplexed, she turned back around just in time to see Artemis attempting to clumsily make his way up the rocks. For a second, she debated whether or not to throw another one of her knives towards him, but a second foreign object made of polished metal passed by her head, forcing her to let go of her prey. At least she had managed to injure the pale teenager… And she would let Caskar have his little fun later on…

Meanwhile, Artemis was still attempting to grasp whatever hold he could on the façade of the rocky wall before him. He took a chance and tried to glance over and around it. There was a path of grass a few paces away, but it looked far too treacherous and slippery due to its closeness to the waterfall. The boy would thus be forced to continue on the rough stones if he wished to make his way to the upper part of the arena.

Artemis’s fingers were not made for climbing, but at this point, it did not matter much. The adrenaline surging through his body was still enough to keep him going despite his wound, and the climb was a mechanical process; getting hold of something, getting up or dying… And dying was not something Artemis wanted to experience so shortly after having escaped a possibly lethal situation.

Somehow, finding the science buried deep within the activity made it easier for him. The force he had to apply in order to yank his way up the wall would have to be equal to his mass times the acceleration; Sir Isaac Newton had proved it.

Being careful not to slip in the blood dripping from his shoulder or on the waterfall’s mist delicately falling on the rocks, Artemis grabbed anything that looked solid and hiked. _With an injured shoulder, Newton’s laws are somewhat harder to put in practice,_ he thought, finally allowing himself to wince from the pain.

Eventually, there were no more rocks left to climb and Artemis stood on top of what looked like a small mountain in which were a few large caves. He glanced down on the meadow below him. Six dead bodies had been left on the ground around the golden Cornucopia. A few living people – the Careers, most likely – remained by a pile of weapons, seemingly arguing about who should get what supplies.

Looking higher up, Artemis saw that the path he had taken had by far been the most hazardous one of the three paths leading upwards, hence the lack of tributes running after him. The boy’s blood had left a long trail from the bottom of the rocks up to where he stood.

Artemis sank down on a small rock, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before pulling the loose knife from his burning flesh. He could never have hoped to hold back his scream. Even through the pain, he felt so thankful for whatever had distracted Acassie. If it had not been for her lack of attention, the knife would have sliced through his neck artery.

A slow gush of blood leaked from Artemis’s wound, making his head start to spin, just like the blade had spun when it had been between Acassie’s fingers. Steadying his breath, Artemis scanned the rocks with his gaze, trying to find something to tend his wound. The first thing that caught his attention was a small patch of moss just beside his foot. Slowly, he picked up some of it and pressed it against his wounded shoulder. He would be safe for now; he only had to control his magic so that his wound would seem to heal normally to the Games’ watchers…

Inside the arena, cannons began to announce the first deaths of the 80th Hunger Games.

* * *

Claudius Templesmith could not believe his eyes! Or at least, that’s what he had repeatedly told his audience during the last few minutes of his broadcast. “Caesar, I knew that this year’s tributes looked particularly strong, but I would _never_ have expected _this_ to happen at the Cornucopia!” He checked his statistics once again, just to make sure that he had not misread anything. “This year, ladies and gentlemen, only six people met their end in the initial bloodbath.”

“The others just flew away; disappeared somewhere in the arena,” added Caesar Flickerman.

Claudius made a sound of agreement. “However, we must admit that even though these tributes just beat the record for the fewest deaths in the first twenty-five minutes, we got to see some pretty intense scenes.”

“Of course, we did!” Just look at that replay!” On every screen in Panem was a recap of the moment when the last second of the countdown ticked away.

Caskar had been the fastest of them all, reaching the Cornucopia before anyone else could and thus making it really easy for him to make the first kill of the Games. A few smart tributes had taken some supplies and then hurried away to the nearest of the three paths that had been meant for them to climb.

The replay was then fast forwarded to the moment when the camera had zoomed on the Cornucopia, where the small but ruthless blood bath was taking place.

“I really hope that some of you people had placed their bets correctly,” said Caesar, looking closely at the action from behind his immaculate white desk.

“Oh my! Just look at this!” exclaimed Claudius with all of the Games’ excitement. “Silver Canemon, the female tribute from District 6 made a very strong début in those first minutes! Two tributes almost at once for the girl with the blow cane!”

“Very surprising for a girl who scored a 6 in training… But tell me, Claudius, wasn’t one of her victims Jehl Amnel, the boy from her own District?” wondered Caesar.

“Yes, I believe so,” replied Claudius with the perfect incredulous tone. “I wonder what went on between these two for such a thing to happen.”

Caskar suddenly appeared on screen, a mad look raging in his eyes.

“Clearly, these two do not get along,” laughed Caesar as he watched the confrontation between Caskar and Silver for a second time. “Watch out for them later on, they are full of promises.”

The viewers were then directed towards Kalheb’s muscular arms. At the tip of his strong fist was the boy from District 8. Kalheb only had to hit Cylan’s temple once. He then let the dead boy fall down, coincidentally landing at Caskar’s feet.

“That was brutal,” commented Claudius with an admiring tone. “Almost as brutal as the second kill of the Games, which, I remind you, was made by Geneva Crass. Lynik Reah from 5 unfortunately lost his glasses fairly early after the countdown, allowing Geneva to get hold of him rather quickly.”

On screen, the focus was now back on Caskar. “Do you think that the boy from District 1 is trying to take down the other tributes by pair?” Caesar asked his co-host.

“Maybe. Right now it sure looks like it, Caesar.”

The two announcers observed their monitors closely.

“What have we got here?” Caesar’s suspicious tone caught Panem’s curiosity. “A group seems to be forming at the mouth of the Cornucopia…”

“An alliance already?”

“It sure looks like it, Claudius…”

* * *

From the District 3 suite, Effie let out a gasp of horror when she saw Acassie’s knife piercing Artemis’s collarbone. Her heart had even started to speed up… Was that stress? Anxiety? Why was she so affected by her tribute’s fate?

From her seat, Ilranor mumbled something about the tributes’ outfits being resistant enough to protect Artemis from any permanent damage for the time being.

“Actually, Ilranor, I think that what saved Artemis was whatever distracted Acassie,” mentioned Beetee.

Ilranor nodded. “Yes of course, but the outfit did provide some defense.”

A camera followed Artemis’s progress as he stepped on the first rocks near the waterfalls, leaving a trail of crimson blood behind him.

“I would have thought that the Ice Prince’s blood would have been blue,” laughed Effie to ease the tense mood in the room. The District 3 team was at the edge of their seats, looking up at their giant screen. Effie was apparently the only one to find her comment remotely funny and distracting… Needless to say, she was not handling stress very well and she found it exceptionally annoying. She, who had been an escort for more years than she could remember, had never felt such a thing so early in the Games.

The scene then changed from Artemis’s slow and painful hike to Caskar having an argument with Elon, the District 2 boy, about who should lead their group. When Acassie ran towards the Career’s alliance, Caskar’s rage only intensified.

“I ask you to gather everyone and you go off on your own little killing spree?” shouted the brown-haired Career. “And to top it all off, you let him escape! Really? I should have known that you were not worthy of us.”

“Relax, Caskar. I wounded your prey. You wanted an exciting hunt, did you not? We’ll find him later on, it’s not like he’s not leaving a trail of blood behind him,” the redhead snapped back.

Caskar breathed deeply. “Anyway, as I was saying, some people are made leaders, some are born leaders and I was born with it. _I_ will take the lead, Elon.”

The tall District 2 boy shrugged. He was not going to change Caskar’s mind at this point.

“And would you two please stop making out?” nearly screamed Caskar, directing a harsh glare towards Kalheb and Geneva. The feline-looking girl let go of the muscular District 9 boy and grinned.

“Sorry for just trying to have a good time here,” Kalheb replied to the new leader.

A few seconds later, Crelin made her way towards the Career’s extended group, her arms filled with the water bottles she had purified for everyone. “Can we go now?” she asked. “Feeling too exposed around the Cornucopia.”

“The tributes from 2 are really strange,” contemplated Effie as the screen went back to showing Artemis. The boy had now reached the top of the rocks.

The District 3 team collectively winced when they saw him removing the blade from his flesh. Xarone covered his eyes with his tattooed hands as the blade slid from Artemis’s shoulder.

 _No, don’t make a sound!_ thought Effie, annoyed with herself. She shivered as Artemis’s scream echoed against the rocks around him. Seeing the pain filling the tribute’s eyes made the escort’s stomach turn.

“That wound must not feel too good,” said Caesar, his image appearing at the bottom corner of the screen.

“At least, apart from the scream, the boy knew how to handle the situation. He’s already putting some moss in there; he knows that it’s going to absorb the blood,” commented Claudius.

That last remark soothed Effie slightly. Yes, Artemis was smart, and so was Silyah for that matter. The two of them could survive for at least one more day…


	19. Chapter Eighteen - Win or Die

Amongst a pile of massive rocks, a young woman was hiding, silently looking through what she had gotten at the Cornucopia. A set of bed sheets wrapped in a sealable plastic bag, a small first-aid kit, which she had caught flying in mid air when people threw themselves at the supplies and… well that was pretty much it.

She tucked the bed sheets in the pocket at the back of her navy blue coat and then carefully looked around to see if there were any other tributes near. Sensing no danger in the nearby area, she walked towards the river that fed the arena’s waterfalls and filled her plastic bag with cold water. She purified it with a few iodine drops she had found in her first-aid kit, mentally thanking whoever had thrown it towards her. She secured the kit around her belt and sat down, waiting by the river, watching the fast current flow into the arena’s biggest waterfall. From where she was, she could see some of the tributes’ launching platforms, as well as the hovercraft, which had just entered the arena to pick up the bloodbath’s victims. The girl heard six loud canons ringing in the air.

“Silyah?” a feminine voice came from behind the girl.

Silyah choked back a gasp and tried to calm her heartbeat as she turned around to face the girl tribute from District 5. “Oh, it’s you!” Silyah was glad that Novia had been the one who scared her and not one of the Careers. “How’s Silver?” Silyah asked her.

The black haired girl smiled. “Good, I hope. If everything went according to plan, she’ll be around soon.”

Silyah nodded slowly. “Thank you for accepting my offer, by the way.” She reached for the plastic bag beside her. “Do you want some water?”

“Yes,” the petite girl sat down in front of her ally. “Nice,” she said, nodding at the improvised bottle. “Though, mine might work better,” she added with a wink.

The District 3 tribute offered the bag to Novia, letting her fill up her own water bottle. “You know, you do with what you can get here,” she explained with a shrug.

“Yes, that, I know. That’s why I teamed up with Silver in training.”

“I wonder how she did at the Cornucopia…”

“She most likely got some weapons… We agreed on her getting armory while you would find a safe place and I the rest of what we would need.”

“Speaking of, do you have another one of these water bottles?” asked Silyah.

“Let me have a look,” the girl browsed through one of her backpacks, then tossed a bottle towards Silyah. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Silyah caught the bottle, filling it up. “That plastic bag can be used as our reservoir; we would waste less iodine by pouring a large amount of water inside of it and then putting it inside our bottles.”

Novia nodded. “Yes, good idea.”

“What’s the good idea?” Silver came towards them, her blow cane strapped to her back along with a considerable number of weapons. “Hello girls. Seems like you found the Clockwork Angel before I did, Novia.”

“Hey, Silver,” Silyah waved at the heavily armed girl.

Silver sat down. “I hope this will be enough,” she said, laying her weapons on the ground. “I grabbed whatever I could… And annoyed Caskar…” Novia gave the District 6 girl a look. “Oh, come on; it will be no fun if he won’t be after me. Anyway, I think that he currently is more interested in our dear Ice Prince.”

“He’s still alive?” asked Silyah as soon as she heard the nickname.

Silver looked thoughtful. “Last time I saw him, he was.” A grin crossed her lips. “Are you worried about your precious Prince, Angel?”

Silyah frowned. “He’s not _my precious prince_ , just so you know, but why shouldn’t I be worried? I’ve nearly spent every hour of every day with him in the past week or so and he’s a nice person.”

Silver’s grin got even wider. “Yes, very nice,” she said. “We’ll know about him later on when they will show the fallen,” she added, her eyes on Silyah.

The girl tensed. “I wonder who is going to be up there… Speaking of, while I was climbing up here, I saw that you did not do much to protect _your_ fellow tribute, am I right?”

The smile on Silver’s lips was now gone. “As a matter of fact, I did,” she said, her eyes going down as her hand went to her pocket. “Jehl had asked me to kill him.”

Novia blinked. “Asked you?”

Silver nodded. “He knew from the beginning that his chances were small and he wanted me to end it for him… And I did.”

Silyah’s eyes went huge in disbelief.

“Are you shocked, Angel?” Silver asked. “His father asked me the same favor when he came to visit me after the Reaping. I did as they requested.” She took a small medallion from her pocket, Jehl’s probably.

Silyah shook her head and stopped staring at Silver. “I guess that I’m not used to speaking about death so lightly…”

“Guess not, but this is the Hunger Games,” shrugged Novia. “It’s kill or be killed.”

“No, it’s win or die. Only one of us will remain at the end. Sad thing to die for, really…” said Silver with a shrug similar to Novia’s.

Silyah took a deep breath. “Do you think that we should go in the forest for the night?” she wondered, eyeing the sun, which would eventually slowly make its way down the brilliant blue sky. “We will need to find a place to settle down and build a shelter before the sun sets.”

“Yes, I think that we should. Gather as much water as possible first,” replied Silver. “And we should also reorganize our things so that each bag of ours holds certain useful items.”

Silyah raised her water-filled plastic bag. It was large enough to contain at least ten full bottles of water. “I think that we can last for a little while with that.”

Silver nodded. “Yes, we will.”

The three tributes organized their supplies quickly. Even though they were practically safe now, none of them were promised to even see the faces of the day’s fallen tributes…

“Before you arrived, I walked around this area,” Silyah pointed to the sector around the river. “Relatively close by, I saw what I think might be a suspended bridge. It seems to be the only way to go in the forest from here… Hope none of you are afraid of creaky planks of wood.”

“Not really, not,” said Silver.

Novia made a face betraying her aversion to this way of transportation, but she shrugged. “As long as it holds us.”

On that semi-positive note, the girls followed the watercourse, being as silent as possible.

Eventually, they reached the suspended bridge Silyah had seen from afar… Truth to be told, it looked quite pathetic. The planks were growing moss and strange bugs were crawling all over it, not to mention that some of the bugs were actually eating parts of the structure.

“Who wants to go first?” asked Silyah reluctantly, wrinkling her nose at the heap of wood.

“It was your idea,” answered Silver, waiting for Silyah to take the first step. “Let’s just get over it.”

“Okay…” Silyah breathed and mentally recited a three seconds countdown. She grabbed the two ropes on each side of the bridge and placed her foot on the first plank, which loudly complained. She shook it slightly. “Seems secure enough,” she told the others.

The small group progressed step-by-step on the long, narrow and slippery bridge. About halfway through, Silyah stopped abruptly.

“Why are you stopping?” asked Silver.

With one quick movement, Silyah ducked, dragging Silver and Novia with her. A shiny arrow suddenly flew by, just where the girls had previously been standing.

“Is that reason good enough?” whispered Silyah. The two other girls looked up quickly, searching for the source of the attack. More arrows went by, but Silyah, Silver and Novia were now out of sight, crawling on the bridge along with the colorful and suspicious bugs.

The girl who had fun teasing and fighting Caskar was now in a very uncomfortable state. She did not like insects. She tried to shake them off of her, but on the unstable suspended bridge, that was not exactly the safest of practices. As she did so, Novia gasped and Silyah held on to the sides of the bridge twice as strongly as she did before, really hoping not to fall in the water.

After a really long and frankly disgusting time crawling on the old planks, the three allies finally got to the other side of the river.

As soon as she got up, Silver made it clear that she would refuse to take another step before having thoroughly removed every filthy bug from her curls. She started out by picking out those she could see and then just furiously shook her head to exterminate the rest. “Urg, I hate bugs,” she murmured, displeased.

“And yet you are not even afraid of one of the deadliest and stupidest tributes in the Games?” Silyah was incredulous, but she was not really the one to talk; she really hated insects too and was also in the process of ridding her hair from them. However, it did not prevent her from smirking at the fact that she might have found one of Silver’s weaknesses…

“Of course not. Caskar doesn’t have six legs, antennae and wings. He is big and dumb; easier to deal with.”

“Just when I thought Caskar couldn’t be any more repulsive, you had to send me this mental image,” laughed Novia. “Where do we go now?”

The girls collectively decided to go to the right, away from the arrows that had been shot at them when they had been on the bridge. They walked in the forest, careful, silent and unseen. They went on until the sky turned orange and their stomachs began to growl.

“We can stop here and build a small camp for the night,” Silyah kept her voice low as a precaution.

“How do we divide the tasks?” asked Novia.

“I will go try to hunt something down, Novia you can look for berries and plants and Angel; you can make us a cozy shelter,” Silver quickly gave everyone different chores.

“Sounds good to me,” agreed Silyah.

Novia also nodded, then went off to her duty. Silver picked up a knife, gave Silyah a wink and ran off into the woods.

Silyah raised an eyebrow and undertook the task of tying one of her large bed sheets to the nearby trees and roots, thus making a small tent. She then gathered some branches and plants to camouflage the shelter. When she was done with the basic structure, she sat down in it, placing the other bed sheets here and there to make the place somewhat comfortable.

Silyah was putting her hair into a bun, securing it in place with small branches when Novia came back. The District 3 girl peeked out of the tent, inviting the other girl in.

Novia’s backpack was filled with various types of plants.

“Do you know if they are safe to eat?” wondered Silyah when Novia stepped into the homemade tent.

“I only took what I could recognize from training,” she nodded.

The two girls sorted the plants Novia had gotten and placed them in one of the pillowcases from Silyah’s bed sheet set. _Who would need a pillowcase in an arena where there are no pillows?_ briefly wondered the girl in question before shrugging it off to concentrate on the task at hand.

When the sorting was over, Silyah and Novia sat back in the tent, concealed from the rest of the forest. The District 3 girl lifted the corner of their shelter’s “wall”, creating a small opening that would allow them to see if anyone was to come their way. Through that hole, Silyah and Novia watched the sky darken and waited for Silver, as they each ate one of the roots Novia had picked up.

“Where is she?” Novia was starting to be concerned about Silver.

“Don’t worry, no canons were fired so she is alive, that’s for sure,” Silyah reassured her.

Their conversation was broken off by the sound of boots rustling leaves on the ground. Silver came through the trees with three freshly trapped rabbits.

Silyah opened her tent’s “official entrance” to the District 6 tribute and motioned for her to come and join them.

Silver stepped inside the shelter. “Nicely done, Angel.”

“Thanks,” Silyah eyed the rabbits, her stomach making a funny noise. “Good catch, Silv.”

“Thank you.”

“Do we start a fire to cook them?” asked Novia.

“We might have to… Though we should try to limit the smoke.”

“I know what could work,” said Silyah, glad that her quick wits had somehow not failed her despite the circumstances.

“Oh?” Novia looked at her.

“We can filter some of the smoke with a damp bed sheet.” She grabbed one from the small pile she had made. “We can suspend it to low tree branches and build our fire in a hole under it. We can also find some rocks to encircle the flames so that they won’t go wild.”

“Can’t believe you just thought of that on the spot. I don’t want to talk too quickly but I think we have a solid team.” Novia smiled, truly glad that she wouldn’t have to spend the evening alone.

Silver, who completely agreed with her District 5 ally, peeked outside of the tent and tried to find a suitable place to build their fire. The three girls left the tent to go under the darkening sky and got to work on their improvised oven.

It was a slow process met with a few failures, but eventually, the team wound up victorious. They had safely started a fire just big enough to cook their supper.

Halfway through her rabbit, Silver raised her gaze, looking up at the sky. “Looks like they’re about to show the fallen,” she said.

The anthem of Panem resonated in the whole arena. Silyah watched the sky, clearly worried.

Silver noticed it. “You are thinking of the Ice Prince, aren’t you?” she asked as the eagle-shaped seal of the Capitol appeared in the sky.

She would not give Silver the pleasure of admitting it once again, but Artemis had been in Silyah’s thoughts during most of the day.

The faces and names of the fallen appeared one by one where shining stars could have previously been seen.

_Lynick Reah, District 5. Jehl Amnel, District 6. Cylan Actraz, District 8. Mareillie Trabrett, District 9. Trinicia Jestov, District 10. Jethro Mellrit, District 10._

“Seems that he was lucky,” whispered Silver. “And you’re now the only one of us whose District still has both of its tributes. Our guys are dead.”

Silyah sighed. Not knowing what to reply to that grim statement, she went back to her supper.

Artemis was safe… At least for now…


	20. Chapter Nineteen - Bloody Blades

The mouth of a cave was almost within Artemis’s reach. Only a few meters separated the boy from a potential shelter when the anthem of Panem began to play in the whole arena. Artemis halted, looking up into the dark night sky where some vaguely familiar faces flashed one by one over his head. Then, the anthem came to an end. Artemis let out a sigh of relief followed by a faint groan of pain. He would eventually have to find fresh water somewhere to clean the cut on his collarbone.

Taking a few last steps, Artemis approached the cave and looked into its entrance… No dangers were in sight… He picked a small rock from the ground and tossed it in the mouth of the cave. If someone was to be in there, they would most likely make some kind of noise – a reaction to the sudden appearance of a flying rock. Luckily, the only sound Artemis heard was the stone falling back upon the ground.

Still being cautious, Artemis stepped in the cave, paying attention to everything that could be a possible threat. Seeing nothing too deadly in his field of view, the boy ventured farther. He kept on walking until the pain in his shoulder made him stop.

Artemis leaned against a wall of rock and repositioned the moss he had used to tend his wound. He took advantage of this brief pause to fully register his surroundings. If he had been an ordinary teenager, his jaw would have dropped in amazement at the sight, but he was a Fowl and he deemed his trademark smirk the most appropriate response. The place he had claimed as his shelter was not a simple cavern; it was undoubtedly a mine. Artemis turned around, carefully studying the composition of the rocks surrounding him. Huge chunks of rosy and yellow-colored metals shined through the wall; copper and gold, for sure… Other parts of the rocky façade seemed to glow in a wide variety of colors… Artemis grunted. Opals.

Having nothing to lose, he scratched the wall of the mine with his newly acquired knife and extracted a piece of gold from it. _Old habits die hard,_ as they say. He tucked the gold in one of his pants’ pocket and went on. He could hear a water source close by.

Artemis followed the sound longer into the mines and was eventually led to a pond filled with seemingly clear water.

The boy kneeled, removed the moss that covered his injury and opened up his jacket, gaining a better access to the swollen red cut between his collarbone and his shoulder. He filled up his water bottle, filtering the liquid in the pond by using the bottom of his shirt. Leaning back as he separated the two sides of his cut, the male representative of District 3 raised the bottle and began to pour. Artemis gritted his teeth as the water came in contact with his burning flesh. The liquid was warm and probably not the cleanest despite his primitive filter, but it was better than leaving his wound untreated.

Artemis leaned his head back against the cave’s wall, his eyes slowly closing as he concentrated on his breathing. Out of his numerous adventures, not one had ever been like this. Perhaps it was because he was on his own now… He only had his own set of skills to depend on. No Butler, no Foaly and no Holly. Artemis let a weak sigh find its way out of his lips. At least he could praise himself for the fact that he was not dead yet.

When Artemis opened his eyes, the supplies he had gotten from the Cornucopia caught his attention. The sleeping bag he had grabbed seemed to be particularly bulky in its silky envelope… Now that his curiosity was piqued, Artemis opened the bag and was indeed pleasantly surprised by a bonus item. Tucked within the rolled up sleeping bag was one folded backpack and a simple black shirt. He took the time to open everything up properly, then evaluated the resources that lay before him. He had a backpack, a knife, a water bottle, a sleeping bag, one clean shirt and a wound in his shoulder. That was it for now. Obviously, he could have done perfectly fine without the wound, but it had been a package deal: no injury, no knife… Artemis was not particularly sure about his ability to wield the said knife, but he still knew that having one was better than being weaponless.

With another sigh, the worn-out teenager emptied his water bottle and filled it back up, once again filtering the water from the pond with the bottom of his shirt. Not to fall victim to dehydration, Artemis reluctantly drank half of the bottle and decided to keep the rest for the next morning. By then, he would surely know if it truly was safe for consumption.

Ready to settle down at last, he changed into the clean shirt and found a corner of the cave that would hopefully conceal him for the entire night. After laying his sleeping bag on the ground, Artemis grabbed his backpack, set it under his head as a makeshift pillow and tried to drift into sleep.

* * *

Caskar dug into his pockets, pulling out his three daggers. He placed two of them in his backpack, smiling as he observed the reflection of the moon in the third one.

The fallen had just appeared in the sky and he was proud to have two of those tributes’ blood on his precious blade. He loved to see the crimson glow that still remained on that specific dagger.

“Well done guys,” he said as he tucked himself in his sleeping bag. “End of day one and our alliance made four kills out of six…” He only paid them this compliment because he had to keep his group confident. In reality, he was still bitter about the fact that Acassie had let Artemis escape their grip.

On the other side of the Careers’ small camp, Geneva was spinning her axe between her fingers, mildly annoyed that it was not the double-bladed model she had acquired a taste for in training. Just like on Caskar’s knife, dry blood marks were tinting the polished silver metal of her weapon.

The feline girl sat beside Kalheb, leaning against his broad shoulder. The young man in question turned towards her and kissed her shamelessly. “Proud of your kill, honey?” he asked in his usual seductive tone as soon as their lips had parted.

“I can’t say I’m not… But it was an easy game, really,” she replied. “I saw yours, by the way,” she added, looking at him, a certain deviousness in her eyes. “I like brutal men.”

“Oh really?” He captured her in his arms and kissed her again, this time even more fiercely.

Caskar cleared his throat. “Unless you want to kill each other by perforating your stomachs with the other’s tongue, would you please go elsewhere in the woods to do this?” he spat, wondering if he should be disgusted by their show.

“Jealous much?” Kalheb raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips in Caskar’s direction.

The small redhead sitting by the Career’s campfire chuckled. The exchange had drawn her attention away from the sight of the red flames casting lights and shadows on her equally fiery hair. “So, will you take up the hunt for the Ice Prince tomorrow?” Acassie asked Caskar in order to inject some pertinence into the conversation and hopefully get the two “lovebirds” out of each other’s mouths.

“Yeah, we can either go for him or Silver,” replied Caskar. “Depending on which one we encounter first, I guess.”

“Silver killed two people in a row, Caskar. With nothing but a blow cane and a few darts, if I may add,” Geneva pointed out. “She’s no joke, just so you know.”

Caskar resisted the urge to throw her the dagger he had decided to sleep close by. “I know that she is no joke, but what do you think I am?”

“Oh, I know what you are, but she killed the guy from _her own_ District,” Geneva rolled her eyes. “If you go fight her, you might just find your match.”

The boy from District 1 snorted. “I could take her down anytime.”

“Don’t get a swollen head,” intervened Crelin. “If you get too sure of yourself, it will be your downfall. Everyone knows that.”

“I think we should find Fowl first. He would be like… practice for stronger opponents,” suggested Elon.

“Yes… He would be just like a breathing training target,” nodded Crelin.

“Whatever,” said Caskar. “As I said, the first person we find, we kill… Kalheb? Geneva? Since you two are pretty busy and won’t risk falling asleep anytime soon, you’ll take the first guard shift. Wake two people up when you’ll be tired.” The boy from 1 was really starting to enjoy barking orders.

Geneva nodded. She certainly didn’t mind staying up alone with Kalheb.

“Hope no one will be too dead tomorrow,” added Caskar without much conviction before yanking his sleeping bag above his ears.

“You mean, none of us, right?” laughed Kalheb. “Because if you want my opinion, the other tributes can die all they want tonight.”

Caskar shrugged and grunted, which was his tired way of demonstrating his agreement.

* * *

Dawn was nearing when Quartz Dahlai, the tribute from District 12, woke up. She shook her ally’s shoulder. “Thea,” she whispered.

The District 8 girl opened her dark blue eyes, tossing away a short lock of ginger hair from them. “Morning already?”

“No, it’s still night, but I have a bad feeling… I think that we should move somewhere else to stay safe… We should also start making provisions for the day.” Quartz stretched and reached for Thea’s backpack.

“Good idea,” nodded the girl, yawning. “You got quite a few useful things back in the meadow, didn’t you?” she then asked.

“No, Peeta told me not to stop at the Cornucopia and get water instead.”

Thea gave her a look, clearly not buying it. “The more ressources we have the better. You know that, right?”

“Okay…” replied Quartz reluctantly. “I might have picked up a thing or two…” She had hoped to remain sneaky, but her ally had a point.

“Like?”

Quartz’s hands disappeared in her pants’ pockets. She took out two small Swiss knives, a big box of waterproof matches, a small bottle of iodine and five snack bars. Thea watched her silently. The girl from 12 laid her supplies on the ground. “What about you? Did _you_ get anything useful?”

“Just weapons,” came Thea’s response.

“Can we sort everything we have and then go for a hunt?”

“Yes, sounds good.” Thea turned and leaned over Quartz’s shoulder. They had slept back to back for extra protection.

“What do you think we will need for today? We can put all the useful stuff in the front pockets of your bag; the less important supplies can go in the other pockets…” The blond girl was already starting to empty Thea’s bag.

“You mean; what will _I_ need for today, don’t you?” Thea’s voice came from behind Quartz, just beside her ear.

Quartz turned around, slightly confused. “You don’t want to go hunt alone, right? That would be really dangerous.”

Thea smiled. “So blondes really are dumb, aren’t they?”

“Why would you say that?” Quartz took one of her blond locks between her fingers. “It’s not something you want to say to your only ally in this arena, _ginger_.”

“I don’t have any ally,” grinned Thea. “I used to, but she called me _ginger_ and tried to keep her supplies all for herself.”

Quartz was just about to apologize when she felt something cold between her shoulder blades.

“Now… How should I do this?” Thea was speaking to herself. “Slowly and painfully, or quickly and painfully?” She trailed the end of the knife up the girl’s spine.

Quartz tried to fight back, but she was paralyzed by terror. A high-pitched scream escaped the bottom of her throat through her trembling lips.

“Scream all you like, 12,” hissed Thea. “I can silence you whenever I want.”

The young tribute with pale golden locks gasped for air. Why would Thea do that to her? They had been good friends in training!

A cannon blasted in Thea’s ears. Somehow, it had been less noisy than Quartz’s scream… The girl from 8 got to her feet and observed what she had done. Not bad; a clean cut over the neck artery. “Sorry, 12; only one winner,” she said to the corpse.

Thea threw everything Quartz had possessed into her bag, leaving the girl’s body for a hovercraft to pick up.


	21. Chapter Twenty - Decreasing Disadvantages

Silyah bolted right up from her sleep when she heard the loud cannon noise.

“That was early,” commented Silver calmly.

Silyah took a moment to catch her breath, squinting and blinking in an attempt to clear the sleep from her eyes. “Ugh… I don’t know what’s worse; waking up to a cannon, or to Effie Trinket…” She laughed softly, trying to supress the mixture of unease and anxiety the sound of a tribute’s death had inflicted upon her. “Just kidding, by the way. We love you, Effie,” she added, just in case she was currently being televised.

Silver grinned in response. “I wonder who it was,” she said more seriously. Silyah felt her throat tighten. She wondered if Silver knew how much she was messing with her head by making her think about Artemis and his potential demise. “With Caskar on the hunt and all…”

“We have to go…” mumbled Silyah, truly worried.

“The cannon went off, whoever it was is dead and most likely already picked up by the hovercraft.”

“Yes, I know that… I just… I think we should keep on moving and that we should do it as soon as possible.” From what Silyah had seen of the Games, bad things usually happened to stagnant teams. The Gamemakers didn’t want a boring show. “I don’t want us to be the next ones to win a one-way hovercraft trip.”

“Fine. Wake up Novia and I’ll check the area.”

Silyah nodded as Silver left. She stretched and combed her long hair with her fingers as she inched towards the District 5 girl. “Novia?” she said, trying to be loud enough to wake her up, yet quiet enough not to attract any unwanted attention.

The small black-haired girl moved around and slowly opened her eyes.

“We have to get moving.” Silyah was already starting to fold the blanket she had slept on.

“Why?” Novia slowly propped herself up on her elbows.

“Didn’t you hear the cannon? Some deadly people already woke up, so we shouldn’t risk staying in one place…”

“I didn’t hear anything… I sleep really deeply…” Novia got up and ran a hand through her short black locks. “Where is Silver?”

“She went to look through the forest.”

“I see.” Novia rolled up her “bed” and handed it to Silyah, who placed the folded blankets in her coat’s back pocket.

“Do you feel alert enough to help me take down the tent?”

“Sure,” Novia stretched and followed her ally as she went outside. A light yet chilly wind blew between the forest’s trees and straight into the tributes’ bones.

Shortly after the two girls had begun dismantling their tent, Silver returned.

“There’s no one around us, at least as far as a ten meters radius.”

Silyah’s eyes grew wide. “Ten meters? You just covered a ten meters radius and you are not even a little out of breath?”

Silver shrugged. “I was used to chase after kids who just loved to run from us, amongst other things.”

Silyah was impressed. She wished she could have the ability to run like that… In many ways, she was growing to admire her allies and their strengths.

With a sigh, the girl untied the tent’s last knot from a branch and shook the dark fabric free of leaves and insects. She folded it neatly and placed it with the other blankets.

“So, where do we head?” asked Novia. “Since we don’t really know where the others are…”

“Where did you get those rabbits yesterday?” Silyah asked Silver as she removed their home-made filter from above the extinguished remains of their fire.

“Not far from here, they seem to live in the area.”

“Let’s stay close by, but constantly in movement,” suggested Silyah.

“Good idea,” agreed Silver. “That way we can get familiar with the area while moving from place to place.”

“We could also make some misleading foot trails,” added Novia.

Silver nodded. Smart people these two…

The girls filled their water bottles up, ate a light breakfast made of the roots Novia had picked up the previous day and then left their camp.

* * *

Much like the other tributes, Artemis woke up from a less than pleasant sleep with the sharp noise of a cannon rattling in his head… Or perhaps that was the blast’s echo that could be heard from within the cave.

The boy sat up and leaned away from the rocky wall, his back aching. This had been the worst night in his life and by far, for he had been awakened every third hour or so because of his injury and general discomfort.

Letting his eyes adjust to the cave’s dim light, he looked around. Luckily, he was still more than alone…

Artemis slowly got to his feet. The slightest of movements shot tendrils of pain through his body, all of them heading towards his shoulder.

The feeble teenager sighed, his stomach starting to rumble. He would need to find food fast. Without nutrition, he would soon be way too weak for his own good. Although he despised the idea of being exposed in the arena, Artemis was left with no choice but to make his way out of the cave. He reluctantly left most of his supplies behind, bringing nothing but his knife with him. He could not even withstand the feeling of his backpack’s strap on his collar bone.

He was not too far from his hideout and not too deep into the forest when he spotted what looked like a bird’s nest on a tree branch. Artemis gritted his teeth. Although it didn’t look too high up, the optimistic possibility of discovering a food source in the nest was overshadowed by the fact that he would have to climb to reach it. Even if his shoulder had been in a normal state, it would have been as good as an impossible task for Artemis Fowl. Sure, it wouldn’t be his first climb in the arena, but a tree was different from a cliff; it was much more arduous.

It wasn’t too long before Artemis began to consider an alternative solution. Some broken branches were lying on the ground… They would be long enough to reach the nest… There was only one caveat to this new plan. If he didn’t want the nest to fall over and its possible content to shatter on the ground, Artemis would have to raise both of his arms.

A low and drawn-out rumble coming from his stomach interrupted Artemis’s thoughts. He would have to do it.

The teenager grabbed a branch in each of his hands, took a deep breath and walked over to the tree, extending his arms above his head. Artemis had to clench his teeth together to hold back a pained grunt. As hard as he may have tried to be careful, the act strained his shoulder more than he thought it would…

Eventually, he managed to lock the nest between the two branches. He lowered them very carefully. A satisfied smirk played across his lips for a short instant. At the bottom of the nest were four small eggs.

Artemis took the nest and let go of the branches. He headed back towards the cave where he planned to try to make a fire and cook himself a breakfast without being noticed.

He had almost reached his shelter when a faint beeping noise began to chime over his head. He looked up, searching for the source of the foreign sound.

A small silver parachute was lazily making its way down the sky… Artemis waited a few seconds for it to get within reach and caught it between his slim fingers. On a small card attached to the box that came with the parachute was a note.

“ _Clever boy_ ,” it read.

The note was signed by the boy’s mentor, Beetee Latier.

With both his future breakfast and the parachute in hand, Artemis chose to go back to the cave before investigating the content of his sponsor-sent silver box.

The gift in question was an object roughly the same shape and size as a continental wallet. Artemis undid the fastener at the side of the case, revealing a set of tools.

Parts of a survival plan formed in Artemis’s brain. He now had some type of advantage in those Games…

Artemis walked back to the area in which he had slept and began assembling a small campfire beside the pond using some rocks he found on the ground. He set the bird’s nest in the middle of it, removing the eggs from their only mean of protection. Armed with a spindle from his new tool kit and with the nest acting as tinder, Artemis got to work, desperately trying to make a spark. If only he had listened to Butler more often… Things could have been so much easier. Nevertheless, he kept on going until a single flame rewarded his efforts. He finally had fire!

Now that the hardest task had been dealt with, Artemis found a large flat rock to use as a pan, cracked open the eggs and cooked them to the best of his abilities. It was not the gourmet omelets he was used to, but it was better than to start the day with an empty stomach.

* * *

“Which way do you want to go?” Elon asked Caskar.

The alliance’s day had begun later than most of the other tributes’ day. Half of them had not even heard the first cannon.

The District 1 boy took another snack bar from his bag; he had plenty, he could certainly afford eating an extra one. “Acassie? Where did Artemis go when you _let him escape_?” Caskar turned to the short redhead.

“He headed for the caves, I think,” came the reply. “We can go back down to the Cornucopia or try to find them from where we are right now if you want to get to him.”

“Which one would take less –” began Crelin before being interrupted.

“Let’s go from here,” asserted Caskar. “We’ll follow the sound of the waterfalls and find him.”

“Aye, aye, leader,” laughed Geneva.

Caskar dragged his group through the woods and led them close to the river. They paused to fill and filter their water bottles, then walked along the banks of the large stream, not even caring about hiding or being subtle.

At one point, the group saw a few wild animals and decided to go hunt. They had snack bars from the Cornucopia, but according to Caskar, there was nothing like meat to satisfy their hunger.

“What will we do of what we don’t eat today? It might be spoiled by tomorrow…” Kalheb held a chubby rabbit in his hands as he walked to Caskar.

“We’ll burn it,” answered the District 1 boy while cleaning up the blade of his hunting knife. “We won’t give the other tributes the chance to fall on some free food.” Caskar had caught two rabbits and a big squirrel, which he did not intend to share.

Soon enough, Geneva emerged from her side of the woods, carrying three freshly trapped squirrels. “Nice kill, Kalheb,” she purred, joining the boys.

“Thanks, honey,” replied Kalheb with the usual seductive tone he used with her. Both he and Geneva knew that there was no real affection between them – only physical attraction – and they were both perfectly fine with it.

For once, Caskar was satisfied with his team. They were ridding the area of wildlife and keeping it for themselves. _The laws of survival,_ thought the boy.

Once fully reunited, the Careers cleaned and prepared their kills together, choosing to put their meat in the plastic bags they had obtained at the Cornucopia to keep it for later. For now, they had some travelling to do.

Despite sticking with one another for the sole purpose of killing the other tributes more easily, they had chosen to remain in the forest for that part of the trip, seeing as they were now extremely close to the waterfalls. With the current of the river starting to get relatively strong, they didn’t want to lose a member to a mere accident just yet.

As the rest of the group was starting to hurry their pace, Caskar stopped abruptly in the middle of his trail.

“What again?” nearly screamed Elon. It had been the tenth time the District 1 boy halted without an apparent cause.

“I saw something move.” Caskar squinted. He was sure that this time, something – a human – was close to them.

“We are in the woods Caskar! Of course, things move around! We didn’t kill every single animal here.” Kalheb rolled his eyes.

Geneva, on the other hand, was looking in the same direction as Caskar, her concentration visible on her face. “I heard it.”

Caskar turned to Kalheb and Elon. “See, I’m not that crazy,” he whispered.

Geneva grinned. “Come on then!”

The Careers followed Caskar and Geneva, keeping a reasonable distance from them.

The boy from 1 pulled his “killing dagger” out from his bag. He had finally locked his sight on his target. He couldn’t quite make out the details yet, but he could see the shape of what, or rather, whom he was hunting. The figure had dark hair and a slim body…

Geneva smiled. “Would you look at that…”

Caskar hoped with all his might that the person he was chasing was the one he had been searching for. Fearing that the figure may disappear, he launched himself forward, running straight towards his prey.

Hearing Caskar’s footsteps, the mystery tribute shot a glance towards the Careers and was quick to vanish into the forest.

Caskar ran even more furiously, looking through the shadows of the trees around him to locate the tribute before an idea struck him. He decided to stop completely. His ears would surely be able to find the kid better than his eyes. Caskar smirked. He could indeed hear someone panting to his left. He turned towards the sound… There, not too far from him, a small bush seemed to tremble. The tall boy casually walked around it, just to give the tribute a little hope… He circled the bush with the biggest of grins on his face. When he heard a muffled sob, he dived in, pulling the tribute by the hair.

Caskar clenched his knife-wielding fist in rage. His catch wasn’t the boy he longed to kill. A young, dark-skinned girl was looking up to him, with tears and fear in her eyes. She was probably the girl from District 11.

More irritated than ever, Caskar tossed the girl into a tree and plunged his dagger into her heart.

Geneva grinned. _One less tribute,_ she thought.

A cannon rang just as Delise Novo’s body hit the ground.

“Let’s get moving,” said Crelin, walking towards the newest Hunger Games victim and the one who killed her.

For once, Caskar agreed.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One - Accidents

Scpenser Ross, the tribute from District 12, wiped a film of sweat from his brow. He was standing before the mouth of a cave. According to his estimation, he was most likely on the right side of the massive mountain he had seen from the Cornucopia.

The boy barely had the time to catch his breath before a thundering cannon blast took him by surprise. Not giving it a second thought, he ran inside the cave, his heart jumping in his chest.

 _How cowardly was that?_ he thought, rolling his eyes. He hoped that no camera had caught his moment of weakness.

After a quick breath to center himself, Scpenser ventured further into the cave, finding his new geographical discovery most intriguing. The precious metals paving the walls around him were a dead giveaway. He was in a mine. Scpenser smiled, he _liked_ mines. With each step he took, the boy felt the comforting weight of the hammer pick secured on his belt. He was in his element at last.

Scpenser walked for what seemed like a long distance before hearing a faint echo bouncing around the cave’s walls. He hurried his pace, dodging stalactites and avoiding stalagmites, letting himself be guided by the pitter-patter of what he hoped to be fresh dripping water.

Much to the boy’s satisfaction, the small pond he ended up finding was even better than the pitiful streamlet he had envisioned. It would certainly be perfect to quench his ever-growing thirst.

“I would not touch the water if I were you,” a cold voice came from behind Scpenser.

The boy’s hand locked around his hammer pick. He scanned the room with a cautious glance as he dislodged his weapon from his belt. Scpenser then spun on his heel, aiming the hammer to his left, ready to get rid of any threat. He only missed his opponent by a mere centimeter.

The boy who had been living in the cave since the beginning of the Games backed off, nearly tripping on a rock in the process.

Scpenser didn’t have the time to see the other tribute’s face, but he felt the need to know who he was up against. “Who’s there?” Scpenser punctuated each word in the hopes of sounding more menacing as he tried, once again, to attack his opponent.

The boy in question ran backwards as the stronger District 12 male did all he could to hit him with his hammer pick.

While trying to keep a safe distance from Scpenser, the smaller teenager had managed to reach the cave’s second entrance. It was then that the boy from the Seam slowed down. He blinked a few times, and through the small amount of light escaping from the cave’s entryway, he finally saw his target’s familiar face… It was the face of someone who could probably make good use of a strong ally. Scpenser dropped his hammer. “Art?”

Artemis held his tongue despite his aversion for this new nickname. One didn’t need to be a teenage genius to know that upsetting someone who just attacked you was not the best idea.

“How did you end up like that?” asked Scpenser, pointing to Artemis’s shoulder.

“The girl from District 7 threw her knife my way yesterday.”

Scpenser observed Artemis. He was in a rough shape. Would it be best for the both of them to get rid of him right away? Scpenser was weighing the pros and cons of killing Artemis when something tickled his mind. “Why did you stop me from drinking the water?”

“Well, I thought you might not exactly want to succumb to electrocution…”

“What did you do, 3?” wondered Scpenser, furrowing his brows.

“I made an… _Electro-net_ ,” replied Artemis, naming his new invention on the spot.

“And how are we supposed to get water now?” Scpenser did not even bother asking what an “electro-net” was. He already knew that the knowledge would be way beyond him.

“As long as I will be working on this prototype, either outside, or elsewhere in the caves.”

Scpenser nodded. He would not kill Artemis, not now… He looked at the boy’s shoulder and reached for something in his coat’s front pocket. He took out a small first aid kit. “Team up?”

Artemis was left with no choice but to agree.

Scpenser set his hammer on the ground and tossed his first aid kit towards Artemis. “Feel free to look through it. I don’t know much about knife wounds, but you might be able to find something useful in there.”

“Thank you…” mumbled Artemis, clumsily catching the kit.

“In the meantime, do you happen to be hungry?”

“Would you, per chance, have any food?”

“I can clean some fish I caught this morning,” replied Scpenser. “I would need water though.”

“I have a small reserve in a bottle near the pond.” Artemis pointed towards where they had come from.

“Alright. We can make this work.”

 _This is going to be a profitable alliance,_ thought the boy from the Seam as he followed Artemis back to their initial meeting place.

Once they arrived near the pond, Artemis gave Scpenser his bottle and had a quick look through the first aid kit, pleased to see that there were indeed some usable items in there.

While one boy wrapped gauze around his wound, the other busied himself with his fish, cleaning and cutting them into filets.

Eventually, Scpenser cocked his head, contemplating the cut-up meat in front of him. “Art? Do you have anything that could help us cook the fish?”

“I most certainly do.” Artemis walked over to his _electro-net_ prototype and retrieved one of its components; a small box-shaped device from which protruded two separate wires. It was the first thing he had assembled after receiving his precious tool kit. “Hand me a flat stone,” he requested.

Scpenser stared at the boy in confusion, then shook his head. He had expected Artemis to procure a match or a lighter, but being the District 3 tribute, he probably had something more innovative up his sleeve. Scpenser thus obliged and found a stone of decent shape and size to hand his ally.

Artemis connected the flat rock to the device. The current going through the copper wiring produced enough heat to make it warm up.

Catching on to what he was doing, Scpenser took a piece of fish and gave it to Artemis who, in turn, placed it on the rock. After a few minutes, the smell of frying fish began to emanate from the makeshift cooking surface.

“Now, that’s what I call handy,” said Scpenser in amazement.

Artemis replied with a faint smirk.

The two new allies cooked the rest of the fish and ate their meal.

“Not bad at all,” commented Scpenser, his mouth full. “The only thing missing is water… I used it all to clean those,” he then said, pointing to the leftover fish they were saving for later.

“Fair point…” Now that Scpenser mentioned it, Artemis realized that he was, in fact, rather thirsty…

The new team thus established a quick game plan and set out on a mission to get water. Artemis guided Scpenser out of the cave and through the path he had borrowed the previous day, just to the left of the arena’s mountain.

“I wonder who left this behind,” mused Scpenser, contemplating a rust-colored rock.

Artemis looked over the District 12 boy’s shoulder and noticed the blood stains, instantly recognizing the spot. “I did…” Artemis’s hand subconsciously moved to his wound and Scpenser frowned, his own shoulder briefly hurting in sympathy for the Fowl boy.

“Well, at least I did get a knife out of it,” Artemis pointed out, trying to sound careless.

“I guess that’s a… good thing.” Scpenser ended his sentence like a question.

“I could have done without the pain,” admitted Artemis as they made their way towards a river.

“Do you have your bottle and the first aid kit?”

“Yes, I do.” Artemis promptly gave the tall District 12 boy the two items he had asked for.

With the bottles and the first aid kid in hand, Scpenser bent down by the edge of the river. When he came back to Artemis’s side, their two bottles were filled with fresh and clean H2O, thanks to the iodine from the first aid supplies. The mission had been successful. “Do you want to go back to your camp right away?”

“Yes,” nodded Artemis. Even with a strong ally to rely on if a deadly situation was to arise, the feeling of safety that came with remaining hidden in the cave was unmatched.

* * *

“How did you come up with the idea of a net?” wondered Scpenser as he worked on extracting copper from the walls of the mine. Artemis had requested him to do so, for he needed a greater amount of conductive material to finish and polish up his net prototype.

 _The inspiration came from the buzz batons used by the Lower Element Police,_ thought Artemis. “I remembered something I had seen in my District,” he answered. “And I am hoping this tool will provide me both a weapon and a mean of protection.”

“I see…” nodded Scpenser, still impressed by how Artemis had made the net. He handed Artemis a big clump of copper. “Is that enough?”

“Yes, it will suffice.”

While Artemis kept on working, Scpenser bent over his shoulder and observed him.

“So… Where’s your girl?” he asked with a small grin after a good ten minutes of complete silence.

Artemis’s gaze darted towards Scpenser. “I beg your pardon?”

“Silyah? I thought you would have teamed up with her.”

“Oh…” Artemis furrowed his brows. “No, we never intended to be a team during the Games. As for your previous question, I am unaware of her whereabouts.” It suddenly occurred to Artemis that one of the day’s cannons could have been for her… It wasn’t exactly a pleasing thought. Artemis brushed it off quickly.

“I see…”

Once the _electro-net_ prototype was ready, the two boys left the mines, led outside by their sudden hunger.

Scpenser had intended on trying to teach Artemis how to hunt, which was much easier said than done. After several attempts, he had to accept the fact that his effort would yield no results. Artemis was smart and he truly mastered the art of being quiet and patient, but that was all he had going for him when it came to surviving in the wild.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take care of finding something to eat for the both of us while you stay here in silence.”

Artemis nodded slowly. He knew it was the best course of action.

Minutes passed and when the District 12 boy finally came back, he had a plump, freshly-trapped rabbit in his hands.

“Excellent work, Mister Ross,” commented Artemis.

“It’s fat enough, so we’ll have a nice meal I think.” Scpenser was pleased with his prey. Back in his District, skipped meals were not a rare occurrence, but ever since he had set foot in the arena, he had always managed to find food. Perhaps the Capitol wanted their tributes to be healthy and full of energy this year.

The two boys were heading back to their camp when the third cannon shot of the day marked another tribute’s passing.

“Can’t wait to be back in the mines. It’s gonna be safer there,” muttered Scpenser, feeling a sudden tension in his shoulders.

“Indeed,” agreed Artemis.

As they got closer to their shelter, a strange smell began to float in the air, getting even stronger by the mine’s entrance.

“That’s so disgusting,” Scpenser wrinkled his nose. “Do you think it’s a Gamemaker’s trap?”

“It could be… But I highly doubt it…”

Scpenser tentatively stepped in the cave, his facial expression revealing what his next statement would be even before it left his lips. “It’s in there, that’s for sure.” He began to breathe through his mouth to avoid smelling the stench.

Artemis grimaced, trying not to inhale too often. Despite how threatening the situation may have seemed, he followed Scpenser through the tunnels. He had a hunch about what had happened and somehow felt that any danger was long gone. Besides, they had their supplies to get back to.

When they reached the pond, even Scpenser, who praised himself on being strong and level-headed, had to fight against the urge to gag. The boy swore through clenched teeth. “Good news is that your _electro-net_ is effective,” he said, looking away from the fried body of a tribute in the water.

Artemis covered his nose with his coat’s collar, both not to scream and not to vomit.

“We gotta get her out of here.” Scpenser walked over to the water source, which still sizzled every now and then.

Carefully trying to avoid the horrific sight, Artemis deactivated his net to let Scpenser take the small blond girl in his arms.

The District 12 boy swiftly left to go lay the girl down at the mouth of the cave. It was not too long before a hovercraft picked her up.

With his head bowed down, Scpenser got back to Artemis. “Do you mind if we relocate ourselves?” he asked. “There must be other galleries in this mine.” He was well aware that deaths went hand in hand with the Hunger Games, but the idea of living right where someone met their end made his spine shiver.

“It sounds like an excellent idea…”

The two allies grabbed their belongings and explored the caves until they found a place where they could not smell the deadly perfume of their accidental murder.

“You know… Technically, we killed her…” murmured Artemis as he set his backpack down in his new living space.

Scpenser nodded slowly and reluctantly gave Artemis a piece of rabbit to cook. “I’m not so hungry anymore… But we better have something in our stomachs for the sake of our survival.”

The other boy took the meat and with the help of his retrieved invention, began to prepare it to the best of his abilities.

The two of them spent the rest of the night in silence, not too sure about what to think of the District 4 girl’s end.

* * *

Silyah had to face it, she would never get used to cannons. Her heart inevitably jumped in her chest every single time one went off. Silver, on the other hand, did not seem to be troubled with them.

“How do you not flinch?” Silyah asked the District 6 girl.

Silver shrugged. “It’s the Hunger Games.”

“Okay, maybe death doesn’t phase you, but these things are loud and always come out of nowhere. Surely that’s enough to startle someone, right?”

“Yeah, but what good would it do for me to flinch every time I heard one? It’s something that will happen over and over again until the end of our stay here. It will have happened twenty-three times all in all.”

“Supper is ready girls,” called Novia from beside the small fire they had just lit.

Silver and Silyah took a seat by her side. “How many cannons were there today anyway?”

“Three,” Silyah did not even take a second to answer.

“That makes fifteen of us left…”

The girls each grabbed a serving of the squirrel Novia had cooked.

“Three more deaths and we will officially be in the remaining half,” cheered the District 5 tribute. Upon realizing that their group was made of exactly three people, she instantly regretted her statement.

“Maybe the odds _can_ be in our favor in this hellhole,” murmured Silver.

“Strange way of being optimistic, but I have to agree,” replied Silyah, toying with the sides of her boots as she ate her meal.

Silver sighed. “Well, what else do we have to do here? We can either surrender and be killed or we can have hope, fight and live… I know which one I am aiming for…”

Silyah grinned. “Check this out, you are going to love that, Silv.”

During the past few hours, Silyah had been working on an emergency weapon prototype. Using two pocketknives Silver had given her, two small squares of fabric from one of her bed sheets and the suturing supplies from her first aid kit, she had turned her shoes into knife dispensers. Silyah pressed on the side of the pocket she had stitched on her left boot and a blade came out of it.

“Isn’t that handy,” said Silver, grinning. “You can appear unarmed and surprise your opponents… Clever.”

“Thank you very much. Considering how I need half a day to recover after any physical activity, I had to have at least one ace up my sleeve,” she laughed.

“Good… Hmm… I wonder what the Ice Prince is doing to stay two steps ahead of his foes.”

Silyah felt her heart sink. Everytime she managed to get the Ice Prince off her mind, Silver somehow found a way to bring him up. The feeling of worry that always accompanied his mention was starting to annoy her. “I wonder too…”

“Well, we’ll know if he was one of the day’s three Fallen as soon as the night comes. For some weird reason, I hope he is alive.”

“Oh really?” Silyah raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, he did seem like a nice kid… And well, you _like_ him.”

“Stop embarrassing her,” giggled Novia. “She’s still in denial.”

“Yes, I know, and she’ll stay in denial until he lies dying at her feet.” This time, Silver actually believed in what she was saying, but she had no idea about impact of her statement; about how deeply the District 3 girl’s nightmare was still haunting her.

Silyah suddenly felt a shiver going through her bones. What she thought to be a mere mind trick soon proved to be more than that. The wind in the arena was actually getting colder. “I have a feeling something nasty is about to happen…” Silyah wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

Novia nodded. “Soon, but not tonight… Three deaths in twenty-four hours sounds like a good television day in my opinion.” She pulled out another squirrel from her bag of provisions. “Anyone wants a second portion?”

“Sure. We’ll have to eat these before they get spoiled.” Silyah added a few sticks of wood in their fire and proceeded to help Novia prepare the second squirrel.

Novia looked in the distance. The wind had started to blow a thin veil of smoke towards them. “Looks like some people don’t have the means to cover up their fires,” she whispered with a sly smile. She gently tossed Silver a piece of cooked meat.

“It must be that _wannabe_ Caskar and his merry band of half-wits,” Silver rolled her eyes.

“Merry band of half-wits!” repeated Silyah, shaking her head and laughing softly. “I like that.”

The other girls laughed along. “Why, thank you!” Silver bowed. “I will be here until I die,” she said, as if she were a street performer.

Once the trio was done with their meal, Silyah got up and unfolded the bed sheet she had used as a tent the previous day. “We better start getting ready for the night before it gets too dark.”

“Excellent idea,” agreed Silver.

The girls got to work, knotting the blanket to low tree branches until they were satisfied with the shape of their tent. The increasingly furious wind made the task more difficult than it had been the night before, but they eventually managed to build an acceptable camouflaged shelter.

Just as night began to fall, Silver sighed and sat back down to sharpen one of her blow darts on a flat rock.

Silyah leaned against a tree, side by side with Novia and rubbed her hands together in front of the fire. This would be a cold night.

The arena’s now dark sky lit up with the Capitol’s seal. Panem’s anthem replaced the sounds of flowing water and blowing wind, then the faces of the Fallen appeared one by one for all to see.

Silver’s blue eyes scrutinized each face and name glowing in the sky.

_Aquilna Pearl, District 4._ _Delise Novo, District 11. Quartz Dahlai, District 12._

“Just girls…” Silver pointed out, a hint of sorrow in her voice.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not,” said Novia.

Silver frowned. “I’d like to know who killed them and how.”

“That could be useful. _Horrific_ , but very useful,” nodded Silyah. She let herself relax slightly now that she knew who was still safe.

“You’re glad the Ice Prince wasn’t one of those three, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am,” she replied. Part of her knew that if Artemis was to die, the possibility of having to kill him would become non-existent, but deep down, she hoped that she would get to see him again.

Silver grinned. “Well, time to go to sleep…”

Novia extinguished the fire and the girls got in their tent. “Hope we’ll all still be alive to see tomorrow,” she sighed as she wished her allies goodnight.


End file.
